Talisman
by Francesca Monterone
Summary: "Yes, I am in a relationship with Captain Christopher Pike of the USS Enterprise. Would you like me to hand in my resignation now or after we have returned to Earth?"
1. Chapter 1

TALISMAN

Part I

* * *

**talisman****,** object bearing a sign or engraved character and thought to act as a charm to avert evil and bring good fortune _(Encyclopædia Britannica)_

_

* * *

_

_I just woke up from a fuzzy dream  
You never would believe those things that I have seen  
I looked in the mirror and I saw your face  
You looked right through me, you were miles away_

Madonna, "Miles Away"

* * *

…

Leonard McCoy felt as if he were running on autopilot and had been doing so for the last several hours. He had stopped wondering, trying to comprehend and even worrying quite a while ago and was moving around in a trance-like state of shock that left him functioning like an android.

Five minutes ago, Jim, Spock and Pike had reappeared on the transporter pad and Leonard had been too stunned by the improbability of them actually getting back alive to even feel relief.

_They made it back. It's impossible. They made it back, anyway._

Four minutes ago, Jim had nearly pushed the semi-conscious captain into his arms and Leonard had caught Pike reflectively, trying to steady him.

_He's injured. Correct that. He's half dead. We need to get him to sickbay FAST._

A minute ago, they had arrived in sickbay – or rather, the part of it that was still intact enough to serve as a place to treat patients. It was already bustling with activity, too many people cramped into too little space, but Leonard had pushed through them rigorously.

"Get me a biobed! Now!"

After some shuffling and shouting, they had been able to lower their patient onto the bed.

Now he stood next to it, examining his injured captain and trying to assess the damage.

All around him, people were talking, asking, screaming, crying, but Leonard ignored the noise.

"Captain?" the nurse on the other side of the bed asked, bending over Pike, "Are you in pain? Can you tell us what happened to you?"

Those were sensible questions, Leonard supposed, if your patient was able to answer them. Captain Pike, however, had just slipped into unconsciousness.

…

Part of him still registered the voices and the movement when they brought him to sickbay, noticed that something seemed to be horribly wrong, but that part was too weak to do anything about it and it was slipping away fast.

Dizziness seized him. The universe swirled around him like water in a maelstrom, and there was nothing stable to hold onto, just odd, unconnected images and flashes of memories. The roaring storm whirled around in his mind and threw pieces of flotsam onto the tempestuous sea. Words. A melody. A fragmented mathematical equation. Colors. The image of a dark haired woman.

Stop. He knew that face, knew it intimately.

Here was an anchor to hold onto amid the swirling chaos.

He frantically tried to remember her name, her rank, the role she'd played in his life, if she ever had played any – mother? daughter? lover? teacher? – but failed.

_Who are you?_ his mind screamed, then she vanished from his thoughts and darkness encompassed him.

…

"What the hell is wrong with him?" Leonard growled, puzzled by the strange readings he got of his patient.

"You mean aside from the two broken ribs, dislocated shoulder and right elbow, four broken fingers and some quite nasty burns…?" The nurse on the other side of the biobed replied sarcastically.

Leonard looked up at her with a disapproving frown. He had already come to appreciate Christine Chapels sharp tongue as well as her skills, but right now, he just wasn't in the mood for clever comments.

"I'm not surprised to find that he's got broken bones and burns after being tortured by Romulans for the last several hours. And I could understand if he'd passed out from the pain, but that's not it… there's something else. He's got symptoms that don't match – it's something of a cross between an infection and an allergic reaction."

"What do you propose we do about it?"

"You go ahead and treat the symptoms and keep him alive. I'll run more tests to try and find out the cause."

"Sounds sensible enough."

"Well, I'm glad you approve. Let's get to work."

…

"Got you!"

Christine Chapel looked up from the elbow she was just treating. Over the last half hour, she had mended the broken ribs and relocated the shoulder. She had treated the burns, and had been glad to find that they looked worse than they truly were and that at the very least, there was no evidence of internal burns, either. Now she was ready to relocate her patient's elbow, but a shout from the new CMO had broken her concentration.

"What is it?"

"Take a look at this."

Carefully, she let go of the injured arm and walked over to where Dr. McCoy was bent over a display.

She took one look at what he had found and felt bile rising in her throat.

"Yuk!"

"My sentiments exactly," the CMO assured her.

"What _is _that? And how did it get there?"

"I already sent an image of it to the science staff; hopefully, they'll be able to identify it. I'd say it's some sort of parasite… and a damn large one at that. As for what it's doing – well, currently, it seems to be pretty intent on killing Captain Pike."

"We've got to get it out."

"Absolutely. Problem is, I have no idea whether or not we can do it without him dying in the process. It's latched onto his brainstem."

…

He was adrift in a vast, unknown ocean. He knew not where he came from, nor where he was going. Past, present and future seemed to overlap, to blend like colors in an aquarelle painting.

A little longer, and he'd lose himself completely…

There were voices, talking, whispering, but he did not understand. One voice, though, rose clear and unmistakably above all the others, and it was calling for him. Calling for him to come along, to follow the ghostly silhouette of the brown-haired woman to a place he already knew.

He'd been there.

A long, long time ago. Or maybe he hadn't, and it was a place he was going to be in the far distant future?

All he knew was that he absolutely _had_ to follow the voice.

He was lost in a labyrinth, and there was only one way out.

She was his Ariadne, and her voice the red thread that would show him the way.

"_Come. Follow me."_

"_I will… I'm trying… don't go away…"_

But it was hard to follow her through the swirling, troubled waters of the ocean.

"_Where are you leading me?"_

"_Follow me, my love."_

…

* * *

_I am near you  
You don't see me  
Can you feel me  
I'm closer than close_

The Rasmus, Ghost of Love

* * *

It was not standard Starfleet protocol for a captain to personally pick up his first officer, but this was her first assignment as such and a somewhat special situation.

Special, because the person originally intended for the position had died less than six hours ago. Transporter accident. Two heartlessly nondescript words for a particularly gruesome way to die.

It was his first day as captain of this ship and he had already lost an officer. A brilliant, talented and highly decorated officer. A man who left a pregnant wife and two small children behind.

Starfleet would take care of them. Sure.

But all the money in the world wouldn't be enough to compensate Sheila Vanger for the loss of her husband or to replace Connor's and Trinity's Daddy.

He felt guilty. It wasn't his fault, but he somehow couldn't rid himself of the feeling that he should have been able to prevent that accident from happening. It was a captain's duty to protect his crew. He also wondered whether he'd be able to protect Anthony Vanger's successor from suffering a similar fate.

If she even agreed to become his successor.

She was on personal leave and Starfleet hadn't been able to contact her about this new assignment. During the entire journey from San Francisco to Buenos Aires, he had been trying to figure out what to tell her.

"_Hi, nice to meet you, I'm your new captain. Please stop whatever you're doing and accompany me to the ship."_

Surely not.

He was well aware of the importance of good first impressions; and he wanted to do everything just right. But nothing in his Starfleet training or his working experience had prepared him for such a situation.

Starfleet had provided him with a name, an address and a picture, nothing more. He knew virtually nothing about this woman. And yet she was to become his closest companion for the next months, maybe even years. It felt strange.

He stood in front of the door to a well-kept, sizeable house in a middle-class neighborhood of the city and he still didn't know what to say.

How would she react?

The door slid open and curious brown eyes looked up at him from below his waist. The child reminded him of a perfect little porcelain doll, her light skin contrasting with coal black hair and dark eyes, her blue and white dress all prim and proper and ribbons tied into her ponytails.

"Hello. Are your parents home?"

She looked at him questioningly, then turned around to shout something into the house. It took him a moment to recognize the language as Spanish.

A minute later, two women appeared in the door frame, both dark-haired as the girl. He recognized one of them as his first-officer-to-be. She looked exactly as in the picture he had seen, her hair straight and a little over shoulder length, her face serious and unsmiling, even though the curiosity was visible in her eyes.

The other woman was certainly the prettier one, a graceful, slender beauty, who smiled at him, showing very white teeth.

"Yes?"

"Captain Christopher Pike of Starfleet. I am here to see Lieutenant Mondego." He looked at the woman in question.

She raised an eyebrow. "That would be me. How may I help you, sir?"

"I am sorry to bother you while you are on leave, but there has been an accident and Starfleet has chosen to give you a new assignment."

She studied him for a moment. "On your ship," she then stated.

He nodded. "As first officer."

The other woman gave a surprised squeal, but Sofia Mondego just nodded. "If you are willing to wait for half an hour, I will accompany you back to San Francisco immediately." She turned to her companion, who seemed a little overwhelmed. "I am very sorry, Eva."

The other woman took her hands and shook her head emphatically. "No, no, you must go, of course you must go, it is such an opportunity…!"

"It is," Sofia Mondego admitted quietly, "I just wish it wouldn't have come to me through the misfortune of another." And turning back to him she added: "My predecessor… he is dead, isn't he?"

He swallowed and nodded.

* * *

_You were the answer  
All that I needed  
To justify, justify my life_

The Rasmus, "Justify"

* * *

"… _I have not slept for two days and I can see that they a worried, but no one dares to utter a word in my presence. It is not that they fear me, they have simply come to respect my decisions and trust in my abilities and if I seem a little more than human to them, all the more reason to believe that I can face and master anything. There is also another reason – they are all afraid and weary themselves and they seem to fear that if I admit weakness, everything will collapse. What hope is there, when the person you look up to can take no more? So we dance around each other carefully, trying to preserve the façade and I pretend to possess superhuman strength and be unperturbed by all the horrible reports that have reached us, but I do not know how much longer I can keep it up. My Vulcan lieutenant, Simar, took the news of the destruction of her planet with remarkable calm, but today, when I went to look for her in engineering, I found her hidden in a corner, crying. I never thought that Vulcans even knew how to cry and I found no comforting words for her. What can you tell someone who has just lost her family, her friends, her entire race and even her planet? When she received those news, Lieutenant Simar's world collapsed. And she is not alone. Although Simar is the only Vulcan among my crew, there are many who share her pain, as they have lost friends, lovers, children. Those who have as of yet not received any bad news from home are terrified of what may lie ahead of us. The insecurity, the lack of information about what really happened, makes our situation all the more unbearable.  
I am dead tired. But Cristo, I shall not rest until I know whether you will live or die. Is there even a chance that we will make it to Earth in time for me to sit by your bed and hold your hand? Or are all my hopes in vain, and will I arrive to find nothing but a bronze plate bearing your name and a date?"_

_Personal Log of Captain Sofia Mondego, USS Serenity_

…

It took him about two days to figure out that Sofia Mondego was quite probably one of the most capable Starfleet officers he had ever met. On the other hand, it took him about two hours to figure out that she was not an easy person to get along with.

She was a study in contradiction.

No one could have questioned her loyalty, her commitment to Starfleet and to her crew or her personal integrity, but she remained distant and somewhat cold to all of her crewmates. She kept them at arm's length and moved cautiously among them.

She had a brilliant mind and turned out to be a very reliable judge of character.

Yet she always appeared as rigid and formal as her immaculate uniform and straight, unembellished hair. _Small talk _seemed an alien concept to her, and she never volunteered any personal information. She did not ask for it, either.

At the end of their first week, he called her to his ready room for a private conversation.

"Lieutenant, are you unhappy with this assignment? I know that it must have come to you very sudden, and I'd understand if you were feeling apprehensive about it…"

She turned to look at him, her clear grey eyes studying his face. Faced with that gaze, he always felt like he was being evaluated by an impartial and merciless judge, who'd see right through all of his masks and uncover all the little flaws and imperfections he was straining so hard to hide.

"No, Captain. I am perfectly content with this assignment."

_Huh._

…

She knew that he was watching her constantly. She could feel his eyes on her back when they were on the bridge, she felt his gaze follow her when she walked past him in the long corridors of the ship, and when he was talking to her, she could see him look at her, as if he was trying to read something of her face.

It was somewhat unnerving, but she was determined never to let him know that it bothered her. This was her first assignment as first officer, and she was going to excel at it.

Besides, apart from the sidelong glances and curious looks, he was surprisingly easy to get along with. It didn't take her long to find that he was an able captain, and that there was a good reason for his popularity with the crew. He treated everyone friendly and fairly and managed to find the right balance between companionable and professional.

She felt that he actually respected her judgment and listened to her suggestions.

They worked well as a team, at least on a professional level.

Privately, it was a little more difficult.

On a starship, you virtually had no choice but to spend your free time either alone or with the same people you worked with all day. She preferred to be alone, or so she told herself, but from time it was unavoidable to participate in crew activities.

Her refusal to participate in card games caused some frowns. Her apparent disinterest in movies and sports caused a few more. She was not a very talkative person, nor was she able to entertain her crewmates with jokes or stories – or at least, she refused to do so.

The captain, however, was not discouraged by any of this.

He insisted on conversing with her and it did not seem to bother him that he was doing most of the talking, while she remained silent, studying his animated face as he told her of past missions and adventures. She would rather have bitten of her tongue than admitted to him or to herself that she actually enjoyed listening to him. His voice was a pleasant, soothing baritone, the voice of a man, who would someday tell those same stories to his grandchildren and build dream-castles for them to explore.

He invited her to participate in card or in board games, until she grew exasperated enough to give in. She trounced him at chess and beat him at nearly every card-game he could come up with, much to the surprise and amusement of the crew, and he always laughed, complimenting her skill, and challenging her to a rematch.

He asked her to join an improvised game of volleyball and when she insisted she didn't like ballgames, the next time he proposed a sparring match. At first he tried to be careful, as if he was afraid of harming, or even touching her, but when he saw that she stood her ground, the match became more spirited. She knew that he not only had the advantage of being taller and more muscular than she was, but she was also acutely aware of the fact that he got much too close for her comfort. She felt a constant tingling on her skin and wished the match was already over, but she couldn't bring herself to surrender. Her pride would not allow defeat.

When in the end he had her neatly pinned to the floor, a smile spreading over his sweaty face and lighting up his eyes, she glowered back at him, and as soon as he let her go, she fled to her quarters.

…

"Are you still mad at me?"

She looked up from her PADD that showed the results of the latest personnel review and raised her brows.

"Sir?"

"About the match," he clarified.

"You won."

"Yes, I know. I was just wondering whether you'd hold it against me for the rest of this mission or if there is some way I could make it up to you."

"It was a _game_, sir," she stated, shifting her weight slightly from one foot to another. This conversation bothered her.

"To you, it's never just a game. You take everything seriously, and you make it your personal duty to be good at it. To be good at everything. Sometimes you scare me, Number One." She could see that he was teasing her by the familiar glint in his eyes.

Hesitating a moment, she tried to decide how to best reply to this statement.

"I want to be a good officer," she said in the end.

"Trust me, you are an excellent officer. It's just that your perfection can be a little scary sometimes. Think about it, Number One."

"Excuse me, captain, but why are you calling me that?"

He looked at her for a moment, before replying with a small smile: "Because you are, aren't you?"

…

It was the first time anything went wrong since they had been working together, and that time, it went horribly wrong.

Pike had sent her to lead an away mission to a colony that was at that time on the verge of civil war. She was supposed to evaluate the situation on the planet, while he tried to contact the leaders of the opposing factions and try to convince them to meet and draw up a peace treaty.

As she was walking through the streets of the colony's capital city with her team, trying to gain a picture of the overall atmosphere, violence erupted in the market place and spread through the neighboring quarters like a wildfire. Two of her team members were shot as they tried to disarm the insurgents and to protect some innocent bystanders.

The rebels managed to kidnap her and another female officer, Ensign Kelyra Kelriss. They were taken to a hiding place and separated. She could not see what happened to Kelyra, but she could hear her scream, even through the walls of her prison.

Helplessly, she threw herself against the door, knowing fully well that it would have been her job to protect Kelyra, and that now there was nothing she could do for her.

When they came for her, she fought them with every ounce of strength she had left, but she was overpowered in the end.

…

He arrived to a raging chaos, and at first had trouble orienting himself. His team swept out, taking down as many of the rebels as they could without getting harmed themselves, but once he realized what was going on, he didn't care about injury, or even death, anymore.

They had abducted and killed one of his crewmembers.

And he did not even want think about what else they might have done to her, prior to killing her.

_Ensign Kelriss!_

But despite his shock and the white-hot anger searing through his brain, there was something that mattered above all else right now.

His first officer was down here somewhere, and he had to find her.

When he did, he committed the first murder of his life. He had killed people before, but always in self-defense, or to defend others. Actually, he killed the first two of the men just for that cause – in order to save Number One.

The third one, though, was another matter.

But when he remembered her face, ghastly pale, scratches and bruises disfiguring the fair skin, her eyes so very, very wide, her mouth opened as if she was silently screaming, he couldn't bring himself to care about those men he'd killed.

Without thinking, he crossed the room and took her into his arms, pressing her close. He led her outside, and arm around her to stabilize her, and he did not remember what he'd said, only that those words had been soft and betrayed a lot more of his true feelings than he'd have given away in any other situation.

And when later she clung to him, crying tears of helpless rage into the front of his uniform, he felt like crying with her; and he knew that for better or for worse, something had changed between them.

…

It took all of the crew a while to cope with what had happened during that away mission. They grieved for the three officers that had been lost, and especially for Ensign Kelryss. Pike had no more interest whatsoever in playing peacemaker to the colonists and told his superiors at Starfleet Command so quite bluntly.

He used a somewhat more diplomatic wording, but his message was evident: _They can go ahead and annihilate each other, for all I care, and in fact, I wish them all a slow, painful death._

The admirals frowned, but relieved him of his task. He set out to take care of his first officer instead, and found that no, she had absolutely no desire whatsoever to talk about it, but she appreciated his concern.

He was insistent and made a point of sharing evening meals and large cups of herbal tea with her. She barely spoke, but she listened.

One night, about three months after the incident, when they were both up late and he was complaining about the quality of the peppermint blend, comparing it to what he knew from home, he caught her hiding a smile. Suddenly he felt as if he'd just won a very important victory.

And a moment later, he knew with painful clarity what he should have known all along – that his personal feelings for this familiar stranger smiling into her cup of tea, went a lot deeper than the loyalty and trust between captain and first officer.

She was his Number One, after all.

…

* * *

_Someone as beautiful as you  
Could do much  
better it's true  
That didn't matter to you  
I tried so hard to be the one  
It's something I couldn't do  
Guess I was under the gun_

The Rasmus, "Justiy"

* * *

She remained a mystery to him.

After a routine de-briefing following an away-mission, she hesitated at the door of the meeting room.

Pike turned to face her. He was in a particularly good mood, since they were just two days away from a long expected shoreleave. "Yes, Number One…? Is anything bothering you about the mission?"

Usually, she only lingered if she had important facts to add or doubts to voice. Casual small-talk just wasn't her thing.

"Not _bothering _me, sir, but…"

She wasn't usually this hesitative. He surveyed her closely, concern rising in his chest, and he could have sworn that he saw her flinch momentarily.

Something was wrong.

"But…?"

"I was wondering, sir… and I should probably wait to ask you this until you are off duty, since it is of a private nature… but would care to accompany me to a ballet performance on the evening of our first day of shoreleave?"

Pike stared at her. He was completely taken aback and it took him a moment to regain control of his voice.

"Are you _asking me out_, Number One?" He fought hard, but couldn't quite keep the grin off his face.

_Well, now…_ if that wasn't an interesting development…

She blushed slightly. It was the first time he had ever seen her blush and she tried to hide it by assuming a particularly stoic face.

"I merely thought you might be interested. You told me earlier that you enjoy the music of Tchaikovsky."

"And I do, I was just a little… surprised. You never asked me to spend time in private with you."

"The Metropolitan Opera House hardly qualifies as a private location," she argued, but he thought that he'd seen the hints of a suppressed smile around the edges of her mouth.

"Never mind. I would feel… honored… to accompany you."

"Are you trying to make fun of me, sir?" She had obviously misinterpreted his grin. It was strange to see her this insecure; apparently the matter meant a lot to her. Knowing that, Pike would not have missed this opportunity for the world.

"Not at all. I will be there, and thank you very much for the invitation."

She hesitated a moment, studying his face as if trying to judge whether his words were sincere, then she nodded.

"Very well."

...

An engine failure on the day before shoreleave had them all cursing life, the universe and everything and made their chief engineer the most valuable man aboard. Number One remained as stoic and unperturbed as ever, but Pike, who kept watching her closely, could discern the first signs of nervousness around dinner time. They were working at top speed down in engineering, and the first officer's eyes kept darting to the clock.

They'd be late for their date.

Secretly, Pike called it a date, although he suspected that she'd strongly object to that term. Well, of course she would. But to him, it was a start.

He personally urged Corelli to do the best he could, and the chief engineer worked several small miracles that day, but it just wasn't enough. Even at top speed and with newly restored full engine power, it was evident that they would not make it in time.

Twenty minutes before their estimated arrival time, Pike leaned over to her. "Go."

She looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"I suspect that you weren't planning on attending the performance in your Starfleet uniform. We'll have to make a run for it, so go downstairs and get dressed!"

She kept looking at him with that bemused expression he had come to cherish. "You're serious," she stated incredulously.

"Of course I am. Now go, and hurry, because I'll have to change into my civvies too, and one of us has to be on the bridge during docking procedures."

"It would be inappropriate for me to perform my duties not wearing uniform."

"Nonsense, as long as you do your job, you may wear snow boots and a bikini top, for all we care. Besides, I've always wanted to see you command this ship dressed in an evening gown." He grinned at her, and she would later claim that it had been that roguish, boyish grin that made her counteract Starfleet protocol.

Ten minutes later she was back, wearing a deep blue dress that hugged her slim body lovingly and accentuated all the right places, and Pike was left open-mouthed and slightly breathless.

She caught him staring at her, and he could have sworn there was a mischievous glint in her dark eyes when she sent him away to get dressed himself.

...

They arrived well within the first half of the recital and were shown to one of the loges by a frowning liveried attendant. The people already sitting in the front row of the loge turned around as they settled in the back as quietly as possible, but it was too dark to see their faces.

Pike felt too overwhelmed by the fact that he was here, with her on a private engagement that had nothing to do with Starfleet and/or the ship, to really listen to the music. It was beautiful, though. Everything was beautiful tonight.

He watched the dancers, once again amazed by the immense flexibility and breathtaking grace a human body could show; and somehow, the prim ballerina seemed oddly familiar. He had seen her before, but not on a stage.

_A house in a moderately rich neighborhood of Buenos Aires… the door opening, a little girl emerging… shouts, then – Eva! _The woman now dancing the black swan was Eva, Number One's companion the day he had first met her. He still didn't know in what way they were linked to one another.

Friends? Relatives? Lovers…?

_No. If she had a lover, I'd know by now…_

But some doubts remained, and they were poisoning his evening.

When the curtain fell and a tremendous uproar of applause erupted in the entire hall, Pike was still pondering his puzzle. When the curtain was swept aside to make room for the reappearing cast and people jumped up from their seats to salute them and honor their performance, the black swan was in the front row, smiling graciously at her audience.

He noticed that everyone in the loge had risen and was joyously applauding. He also noticed tear-streaks on Number One's face.

A man, probably the director, came onstage to hand out large bouquets of flowers to the top dancers. The prim ballerina smiled at him over her bouquet of roses and carnations, then her gaze travelled up towards the loges, and the man standing in front of Pike cheered her, shouting "Bravo, Eva!" and something else that he did not catch.

When the applause finally subsided, the man turned, a smile lighting his handsome face as he walked up to them.

"Sofia!" The next moment, Pike had trouble recognizing his first officer, as she was crying and laughing at the same time, clinging to the man and to the other woman, who had joined him. Someone nudged him and he looked down to see another familiar face.

The little girl had grown a bit, but apparently she remembered him just as well as he remembered her.

"Did you come to bring auntie Sofia back?" She asked him curiously, and Pike had to smile despite himself.

Just as he was about to answer, the door to the loge opened once again and a slender shadow carrying a large bouquet of flowers slipped inside.

"Diego! _Sofia? Sofia, mí vida_!" More hugs and kisses. Pike felt a little left out and was somewhat astonished to see Number One so emotional.

Finally, they seemed to realize that he was even there and three pairs of curious eyes turned towards him.

"Captain Pike!" Eva, still in her ballet dress, smiled at him. "It is so nice to see you here! Sofia did not mention anything…"

"You didn't…?" Pike asked, raising his eyebrows at her, and to his delight, Number One blushed once again. Before she could reply anything, he turned back to Eva, congratulating her on her performance.

"Thank you. I'm glad you liked it."

Number One stepped to his side. "Captain… I do not believe you have met my family." She pointed to the man standing next to Eva. "My brother Diego, his wife Diana and their daughter Emilia." The little girl winked at him. "And my sister, Eva."

"Oh, but we already know each other!" Eva protested. "He personally came to tell you about your new assignment."

But Pike was too distracted to acknowledge the comment.

_Sisters. Eva, the black swan, is her sister…_

He felt… relieved. So relieved that it seemed almost ridiculous.

He looked up to see her watching him, a soft, almost shy smile touching her lips. And suddenly, it hit him with the force of a lightning bolt. She had brought him here to meet her family. She, who rarely offered a private word, who never spoke about her past, who had perfected the façade of the cold, unemotional stranger… his ice princess… a few days ago he had thought that she did not trust him, and now she had taken him to meet her family.

He returned her smile, his heart constricting in a sudden surge of affection.

...

Diego and Diana, who knew their way around New York, insisted on taking them to dinner. The restaurant was Vietnamese, upscale, yet very comfortable and the atmosphere friendly.

Eva dared Emilia to try a number of strange dishes and everybody watched and laughed as the little girl bravely sampled her way through the meal.

Pike had rarely seen Number One so happy. She was not – like her sister, brother and sister-in-law – chatting animatedly, but rather listening, yet her expression was one of quiet joy.

Diana seemed genuinely interested in Starfleet and their work and her questions betrayed that she was very well informed. It turned out that both she and Diego were architects who were currently working on a number of rather prestigious projects all around the globe.

"My favorite is the new Vulcan embassy," Diana confided. "It will be a blend of traditional Vulcan and 23rd century human architecture – ambitious, but also a lot of fun."

"Don't let her continue, or she'll pull out the building plans and tell you more than you ever wanted to hear," Eva cut in, laughing.

Diana smiled. "You are right of course. I sometimes get a little too excited about our projects… and this is your night, hon."

"And Sofia's," Eva smiled at her sister. "We get to see you so seldom. But it's good to know that you're happy up there. Next time, though, you need to time your shoreleave better. This is probably my only evening off for the next month or so, and Diana and Diego are on their way to visit Diana's parents in Ottawa."

"I'll see to it," Number One promised, apparently amused.

"Well, but if you've got some time for yourself…" Diana began, then reached for her handbag and took out a small piece of white paper, "… you should probably go there."

Her eyes briefly darted to Pike, then back to her sister-in-law and there was a thoughtful smile on her face. He wondered what she was up to.

He watched his first officer read and was surprised to see the same thoughtful smile appear on her face. "Thank you, Diana. I will… think about it."

...

"Now I am curious," he said when they had said goodbye to Diana, Diego and Emilia and walked Eva back to her hotel, which was only a few blocks from the restaurant.

"Oh?" She turned to face him, looking pale and beautiful in the semidarkness of the nightly street.

"About the card Diana slipped you…?"

"An address and an access code. You see, due to their job, Diana and Diego travel a lot, and since they both aren't too fond of living out of a suitcase, they have several apartments all across the world."

"Seems sensible," he acknowledged, trying not to get caught up in the glimmer the streetlight painted on her dark hair.

"Yes. This one is in Rome."

"Rome." She was dazzling. The bare flesh of her shoulders seemed like ivory against the deep blue silk of her dress.

"Mhm. I was wondering…"

"Yes." He looked up, their gazes locking.

"You wouldn't even let me ask!" she stated, sounding almost indignant.

He took her hand, slowly trailing his fingers over the soft skin of her wrist.

"You don't need to ask."

…

"His vital signs are stable," Nurse Chapel reported and her voice sounded exhausted. They had been up and about for more hours than they could remember, and the last six or seven of those had been spent fighting for Captain Pike's life.

Slowly, a tired smile crept on Leonard's face. "Cheer up, Christine," he told her. "I think we just won. It's one to zero for us against the Centaurian Slug."

She looked up, smiling back at him.

"I guess so… I wonder – he's obviously not unconscious anymore, he's sleeping, and from those readings I get, he's probably dreaming right now. He _should_ be having some horrible nightmares after all he's just gone through, but actually, he looks quite happy."

Leonard turned his gaze to the sleeping Captain and had to agree with her. There was a peaceful, almost benign impression on Pike's battered face. In fact, he looked happier than Leonard had ever seen him when he was awake.

"Well, maybe he knows that he's just won the second battle in two days. He'll be a legend. But more importantly, he'll be a _living_ legend."

…

* * *

_Don't go wasting your emotion  
Lay all your love on me  
Don't go sharing your devotion  
Lay all your love on me_

Abba, "Lay All Your Love On Me"

* * *

_Message from Commander Trygve Thorsteinsen, USS Serenity, to Captain Francis Campbell, USS Boreas_

_Francis, I suppose you're pretty busy right now what with all the bad news we've received during the last 72 hours, but this is rather urgent. My Captain is on the verge of a complete breakdown, I'm afraid it'll only be a few more hours till she drops dead with exhaustion. Unfortunately, though, I've got neither the means, nor the authority to order her to her quarters to get some rest, and even if I did, I suspect that she wouldn't follow that order. She is as shocked and grieved as any of us, but she obviously can't let it show. There's more to it, though. I wouldn't dare to intrude upon her private matters, but it appears that someone she cares about was either killed or injured in the massacre. Given her age it can't be a son or her father, so I'm guessing it's either husband, lover or brother. I don't want to subject her to a formal reprimand by turning to her superiors, but you share her rank and I was under the impression that you got along pretty well, so I'm asking you to speak to her. Make her see reason, Francis; she's a danger to herself and everyone on this ship if she continues like this._

_Let's hope we all get out of this alive. Part of me still insists that it has to be a bad dream, all of it. Trygve._

...

"Admiral, I _have_ to know."

Admiral Archer, his kind, wrinkled face sympathetic, studied the woman looking at him pleadingly from the viewscreen. To him, she appeared young, but she was already the Captain of her own ship, and an accomplished officer.

"My dear, you must believe me that I would like to help you, but Starfleet has classified that information. There is a lot of confusion about what happened right now, and we are still trying to assess the damage. So many people have been killed, and all over the Federation, people are worried about their friends and relatives. Starfleet is making every effort to sort out this situation as quickly as possible and to determine how many people have been killed or injured."

"But he is the Captain of the _Enterprise_! You must know what happened to him!"

"Captain Mondego, Sofia, please. I simply cannot tell you. Maybe if you were a close blood relative, but even then I'd have to bend the rules almost to the breaking point. But…"

"… I am not," she finished the sentence for him, sounding defeated.

He nodded. "I'm sorry. As soon as I'm allowed to tell you, I promise to contact you."

"Thank you, sir."

Archer saw her look away and realization struck him.

_She hates me now. I never knew they were that close, but apparently, he is one of the most important persons in her life, and I wouldn't tell her anything._

_Poor girl._

…

_Message from Captain Francis Campbell, USS Boreas, to Commander Trygve Thorsteinsen, USS Serenity_

_Trygve, going behind your captain's back like that won't make you very popular with your commanding officers if it becomes known. I'm glad you informed me of this, though and I will make that call to Captain Mondego. I've been trying to get more information on who exactly has been killed or injured – I think we all have – but so far, the name "Mondego" hasn't turned up on any of the lists. Whoever it is, either they don't share a common name, or he may have escaped unscathed. Besides, I seriously doubt that there __**is**__ a husband or lover. I'm even having trouble imagining her having any close personal friends. The woman is an ice princess with the brain of a Vulcan and the personal charm of an armed phaser. Might be a brother, though. But don't worry; I'll see if I can talk some reason to her. Francis._

…

"_Personal log of Captain Sofia Mondego, USS Serenity, Stardate – hold on. I just cannot do this. This is the fourth time I tried, and the fourth time I failed. I simply cannot dictate those memories to a log, not even a personal one. They are to intimate. I have no trouble talking about myself, explaining what happened to me, or why I am anxious, and I can even talk to you, Cristo, as though I was writing a letter, but I cannot talk about __**us**__. It is not so much because I am afraid of discovery, but there seems to be an invisible barrier in my head, that lets me remember everything, but won't let me document it. Maybe I am afraid that when I write it out or dictate it to the computer, everything we shared will become nothing but a tale told between book covers, an unlikely story of sappy romance and overflowing feelings. No, I cannot, I will not. But I miss you so much, and I have never been so scared in my life, not even on Catreus II, when the rebels attacked Kelyra and me…"_

…

"Hello Sofia. I hear that you're giving your poor crew hell in space." Captain Francis Campbell's friendly round face appeared on the screen in front of her.

She scowled at him.

"Now, now. There's no reason to blame _me_, I didn't do anything. It was that Romulan madman, who blew up Vulcan, remember?"

"Francis, if you have something to say, spit it out."

"What? Using my first name? Since when have I been upgraded to that honor?" He grinned.

"I'm supremely annoyed_. _Does that serve as a sufficient explanation?"

"Well, maybe I can help to brighten your day. It just so happens that I was told you were particularly anxious about an old friend…"

Her heart beat faster, but she forced herself not to betray her feelings and kept quiet.

"Well, anyway, how come you never told me you served under Pike? And for such a long time, nonetheless. All in all, almost five years."

"It's none of your business."

"My, aren't we charming today. Anyway, it may ease your sorrows to hear that he and his ship haven't ceased to exist, and even though he is not well, he appears to be alive enough to keep the people in sickbay happily busy."

She stared at him for a moment, before asking apprehensively: "And how do you know that?"

He winced slightly. "I had to call in a favor. And Sofia – DO NOT ASK. Not now. Not ever. Anyway, your former Captain seems to have been through hell, but he made it so far, and he's a tough guy, so there's a good chance he'll be able to chase villains around the universe for many more years."

She was quiet for a moment, concentrating on breathing evenly and not showing her emotions.

"Thank you," she said softly.

"You're welcome, hon. Now go get some sleep. You look like you need it."

…

She was still wearing her evening gown when they caught the next shuttle flight to Rome. At this time, there were few other passengers aboard and the cabin crew dimmed the lights right after take-off. For all she cared, they might have turned them off entirely, or played Andorian music at top volume or whatever else they could come up with.

She barely recognized her surroundings, they were _irrelevant._

Instead, she marveled at the fact that Captain Pike still held her hand.

He didn't let go of it during the entire flight. They barely spoke ten words, and they both slept for the greater part of the journey, but what really mattered was that he didn't let go of her hand.

She watched him beneath half-closed lids, tenderness spreading in her chest as she saw his features softened with sleep, his dark hair slightly mussed.

_- "Go."_

_- "What?"_

_- "I suspect that you weren't planning on attending the recital in your Starfleet uniform. We'll have to make a run for it, so go downstairs and get dressed!"_

_Go downstairs… _it was one of his endearing quirks to call the lower decks of the ship, where the crew quarters were located, _"downstairs"._

_- "I've always wanted to see you command this ship dressed in an evening gown."_

She smiled to herself. _You shall see a lot more than that, Captain_, she silently promised the sleeping man at her side.

…

_Message from Commander Trygve Thorsteinsen, USS Serenity, to Captain Francis Campbell, USS Boreas_

_You're just spiteful 'cause she wasn't impressed by your attempts at flirting, Francis. Thanks for the help, though. She now is back in her quarters, sleeping. Of course, the sedative I slipped her after a prolonged discussion with Dr. Naphiti might have something to do with that, too. By the way – if you ever tell anyone about this, I'll do something truly horrible to you. Trygve._


	2. Chapter 2

TALISMAN

Part II

* * *

_You only live twice or so it seems,  
One life for yourself and one for your dreams.  
You drift through the years and life seems tame,  
Till one dream appears and love is its name.  
And love is a stranger who'll beckon you on,  
Don't think of the danger or the stranger is gone.  
This dream is for you, so pay the price.  
Make one dream come true, you only live twice._  
Nancy Sinatra, You Only Live Twice

* * *

…

She felt a little overdressed, wearing her blue evening gown when they arrived in Rome.

Dazed, she blinked into the blazing sunlight and stepped outside with small, carefully measured steps. Did he notice her hesitancy? She still didn't know whether she was doing the right thing.

Diana's apartment was small, neat and sun streaked. The carefully chosen furniture and decorative artwork betrayed her interest and exquisite taste. There were green plants, lush carpets; and the cupboards and fridge were fully stocked.

"Diana has someone who looks after this apartment while she's gone. She often invites family or friends here; and sometimes she or Diego arrive unexpectedly."

He looked around, studying the matching furniture, the aquarelle paintings, the view from the windows. "You have a remarkable family."

She smiled. "I'm glad you approve, sir."

He shook his head at her, a wry look on his face. "You _do_ know my first name, don't you?"

"I do," she replied softly.

They both moved closer to each other simultaneously; slowly, carefully, their gazes locked. She felt no fear. Not anymore. There was music on her mind and a radiance on her face that made her more beautiful than she could ever have imagined. She could not see it herself, but his eyes were all the mirror she needed. She leant in for his kiss, feeling her skin tingle beneath his fingers. She had longed for his touch and it was everything she had imagined it to be.

Maybe they were both a little surprised at her sudden show of passion as she prolonged the kiss to the last possible moment, her fingers digging into his shoulders, holding him tight.

"I'm not trying to escape, you know," he told her, an amused undertone in his voice. She looked up into his grey eyes, like a deer caught in the car lights, breathing fast and a little unsteady. He pulled her close once again, her head coming to rest at his shoulder, as he slowly ran a hand through her hair. "I wouldn't dream of running from you."

She struggled to find an appropriate response, but apparently, she lacked the talent for casual flirting. Oh well. You couldn't be good at _everything_…

Instead, she settled on unbuttoning his shirt, and promptly, her nimble fingers were caught in a pair of much larger hands.

"What?" She caught his bemused expression.

"Just wondering… what exactly are you getting at…?"

"I thought that was fairly obvious," she replied, her look rather condescending. So far, he had proven surprisingly apt at deciphering nonverbal communication, and she saw absolutely no reason to start explaining herself now.

She heard him swallow. "Well… it is. But are you absolutely certain this is what you want…?"

"We wouldn't be here, if I wasn't certain," she snapped. He was ruining her moment! This was really not the time for prolonged discussions on proper protocol for the pursuit of intimate relationships.

He let go of her hands, and instead touched her face, softly running a finger from her temple to her chin. "That didn't come out quite right, did it? I'm sorry. I just… after what happened on Catreus II…"

Oh. So _that _was his problem. Or rather, he thought that she might have a problem with it.

"_Nothing_ happened on Catreus II," she told him firmly, "well, at least nothing substantial. Not to me. It was Kelyra, who…" God, she still could not speak of Kelyra without that sudden, helpless rage filling her mind, without wanting to make someone suffer for what they'd done to her. Her fingers dug into the palm of her right hand, as she tried to chase the phantom screams away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered once again.

"Yes. So am I." _Sorry I couldn't save her. Sorry I couldn't avenge her death._ "It's not your fault." _Try to focus on the pleasant memories_, she told herself, _the ones where…_ "You came to rescue me. It was rather sweet and romantic actually."

He raised his brows. "It didn't feel particularly romantic to me, to tell you the truth. I… I don't know what I was feeling. Rage. Pain. Relief. Yes… most of all, relief at finding you alive."

"Well, you practically carried me back to the ship," she said.

That earned her another smile. "I'll be your knight in shining armor, if you want me to. I just never thought you needed one."

She wanted to ask him _why_, but decided to leave that for some other time. In the end, all she said was: "Please."

…

"So he'll make it?" Jim asked under his breath when he came to sickbay hours later to check on Pike. Leonard nodded, rubbing his tired eyes and stifling a yawn. "There's a good chance he'll live. He's been through hell, though."

Jim studied him for a moment, before replying: "I know. But then… I guess, we all have."

"How's Spock?"

"Alive," Jim replied dryly. "I believe, Nyota went to join him and to try to convince him to eat something. Maybe she'll be able to help him."

"You don't sound very optimistic."

"He's just lost his mother, his planet, his entire race. Will he ever be happy again? I don't know. I just know that it'll probably take a very, very long time. And that I pity him." He looked back to Pike. "Any guesses as to when he'll wake up?"

Leonard shook his head, trying to ignore the bells that rang in his ears as he did so. "We've no idea as to what exactly the venom of the Centaurian Slug did to his neural network and his brain. For now, he's sleeping and that's probably the best thing he could do. It'll be a long, slow healing process and there's a chance that he's sustained some lasting damage."

Jim looked up in concern. "What kind…?"

"His lower extremities might be permanently paralyzed. There may also be some memory loss. To what extent, I cannot tell you. Not yet. It's too early. But then again, there were several times during the last day or so when I thought he wouldn't make it at all. He might yet make a full recovery."

"Let's hope so. Is there anything I can do to help?"

Leonard shrugged. "No, not really… except…" he looked from his patient to the young Captain. "Well, it's just a small thing… do you know if he has any family we could notify? They'd probably be happy to hear that he's alive."

"As far as I know, he's a confirmed bachelor. No lover, no kids. He might have living parents or siblings, though. I'll look into it, okay?"

Leonard nodded his thoughts. He felt dizzy with tiredness.

"You really ought to catch some sleep, Bones. Have someone else monitor Pike and wake you, if anything happens." He patted his friend's shoulder, before heading back out.

Yawning, Leonard checked Pike's vital signs once more, before leaving his sleeping patient in the care of a nurse. On his way out, he passed Christine Chapel, who had fallen asleep on a biobed. She looked very young and vulnerable with her fair hair falling into her face, and Leonard could not help but smile at her sleeping form.

"You did a remarkable job today," he murmured, before drawing a blanked over her.

…

* * *

_For your eyes only, can see me through the night.  
For your eyes only, I never need to hide.  
You can see so much in me, so much in me that's new.  
I never felt until I looked at you._

Sheena Easton, For Your Eyes Only

* * *

She had drawn the curtains, locking out the day as she turned the room into a sheltered little cave. Catching his bewildered look, she frowned.

"Are you embarrassed, Number One?" He teased, the nickname more intimate than it had ever been before.

She shook her head. "No. But I only want to share this with you."

He smiled, beckoning her to return to his side with a wave of his hand. She hesitated for a moment, marveling at the fact that it felt completely natural to be here with him, sharing time, sharing a bed, sharing everything.

It was all hers now. She owned this moment and this memory, and she'd never let go of it. With that determination, she returned to the bed, settling down by his side as he drew an arm around her and the blanket over her naked body.

Her head resting on his chest, she could feel his slow, even breathing.

"Christopher," she whispered. "Cristobál. Cristo."

After all, it was only fair that she should come up with a nickname for him, too.

…

"We're going to get some company," Sulu informed the Captain when he returned to the bridge. Jim looked at the helmsman questioningly. There was only a minimal crew on the bridge right now, everyone else was either resting, recovering or assisting in the ongoing repair process. There was only so much they could do out here, but that did not seem to discourage people from trying. Jim was proud of his crew, even though he barely knew them. They were great people.

"Starfleet Command has assigned two ships to escort us back to Earth," Sulu explained. "They are due to arrive in approximately thirty-six hours." He sent his Captain a knowing look. "It seems that everyone is most curious about what exactly happened here."

"Imagine that," Jim murmured sarcastically. "During the last hours, I've spoken to more admirals than I even knew there were. Believe me, I know all of Starfleet Command intimately by now."

"Well, you're about to meet two of them in person. In the message they sent us, it was said that Admirals Archer and Barnett are to arrive with those ships."

"Archer? Oh, Scotty's going to love hearing that." Jim grinned.

"I think Admiral Archer will have better things to do than to take revenge for his lost dog. They are probably sending him because he is fluent in Vulcan and knows quite a bit of their culture."

"Which means that they're sending Barnett to deal with us," Jim concluded with a sigh. "Great. I've always liked Archer better. He reminds me of a kind, old grandfather. Barnett's different. More reserved. He'll give us a hard time. Who are the captains of those two ships?"

"They didn't tell me that," Sulu said, shrugging. "I guess, it'll be a surprise party. By the way – how is Captain Pike?"

"Alive, which – according to our favorite doctor – is a small miracle. He's asleep in sickbay."

…

"This is a violation of Starfleet standard regulation," she stated matter-of-factly.

Pike answered with a wry smile. "That's _such _a romantic thing to say, Number One."

She scowled back at him, but he had the distinct impression that she didn't mean it quite that way. He had gotten better at reading her over the course of the last few days. Right now, she sat on the kitchen counter, her long, shapely legs dangling down; watching him cook their dinner.

"I'm serious," she said, "we could both be facing a court martial if it became known."

"Too bad. You know, I always thought that those rules only exist to be broken. At least it happens often enough."

"Is that the reason you've closed both eyes to such occurrences on your ship…?" She asked.

He shrugged, adding thyme to the sauce he was stirring. "They are my people. Would you have me turn them in because they're human beings with human emotions they can't suppress?"

"Starfleet Command would ask you to do so."

"Starfleet Command isn't God Almighty. They don't have to know _everything_. As long as it doesn't endanger our mission, I see no reason to turn anybody in."

"It might endanger our mission. In our case, I mean."

He turned around to face her. "It might," he agreed, "depending on how we deal with it."

"Can you still treat me and see me as _just_ your first officer while we're on duty?"

He averted his gaze. "I don't know. I suppose we'll have to wait and see."

She shook her head. "Not good enough."

For a moment they were silent, both contemplating their situation; then he reached out for her, drawing her into his arms. "It'll have to be. If I know one thing, it's that I won't be able to let go of you. Not ever."

He felt her touch his cheek.

"I don't regret it, you know," she told him in the same, calm tone of voice that never seemed to waver. "But you'll always be two separate entities to me – my Captain and my lover. I don't know any other way to deal with it."

"Well, at least you're good at keeping secrets," he replied with a melancholy smile.

"I'll teach you," she offered, before lifting her face to kiss him.

…

"Shouldn't he be awake by now?" Christine asked, studying the sleeping captain.

Leonard frowned. "He seems a little reluctant to wake up," he agreed. "But those might still be the aftereffects of the slug's toxin. Let's wait another six or eight hours. His vital signs seem stable enough."

He watched her draw something from her pocket. "I should probably return this to him," she said.

"What is it?"

Christine held up her hand to show him a small pendant dangling from a thin leather cord.

"Some sort of keepsake or talisman, I think. I took it from him when I fixed his broken ribs. He wore it around his neck."

Leonard raised his brows. "It's a little glass bottle, and it's even got a message inside. Interesting choice for a Starfleet captain."

"It must mean a lot to him. He wore it under his uniform, what does that tell you?"

"He didn't want to violate Starfleet dress code…?"

Christine waved his comment aside with a negligent gesture. "Nonsense. It probably means a lot to him, if he's wearing it all the time, but he doesn't want it to be seen. I think it's a gift from someone who means a lot to him. Maybe a parent or a lover. It might even be some sort of family heirloom. "

"I wonder what the message is," Leonard mused.

She shrugged. "Ask him, once he's awake."

Leonard watched her as he carefully tied the string around Pike's neck, thinking that Christine Chapel really was a remarkable person.

...

* * *

_Together we faced the cold outside  
No one can say we didn´t try  
And I will never give you up or let you go  
Together we faced our final fears  
Remember the moments that we shared  
That´s why I'll never give you up or let you go.  
_Blue, Curtain Falls

* * *

Commander Trygve Thorsteinsen told himself that he had absolutely no reason to feel apprehensive as he approached the Captain's quarters. After all, he was her first officer. It was his job to look after her and make sure that she was fit for duty.  
Nevertheless, he felt as if he were entering the lion's den when the door slid open to admit him. Yeomen Ellen Frazier, who was busy setting the breakfast table, looked up briefly to send him a smile and thumbs-up.  
_Well_, he thought wryly, _at least somebody seems to appreciate my efforts to preserve our Captain's health and sanity._

The Captain herself stood by the window, but she turned when she heard him approach.

"Commander. I am glad you could join me," she greeted him.

He felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. She _was_ a scary person. Scary in her perfection and the way she seemed to look at people and see all the way down to the bottom of their heart. You couldn't hide anything from her, she'd always catch you at it.

"I hope you are well rested, Captain."

To his surprise, there were some hints of amusement in her voice when she answered. "Yes, thanks to you and our infamous doctor, I am."

"Captain, I –"

"It's alright, Commander. I know that you acted in the best interest of the ship and the crew. I was being… irresponsible."

_Thickheaded_, he thought. "I apologize for going behind your back, Captain."

She shrugged. "I didn't leave you much choice, did I? Anyway, I believe I told you to call me _Sofia_ when we're not on the bridge. I only call you _Commander_ because I can't pronounce your first name."

He smiled at that. Somehow, she always had that effect on him, at least when she wasn't looking at him as if she contemplated eating him alive.

"Please, sit down." She pointed to the table with a graceful wave of her hand. As he sat down across from her, he noticed a silver chain dangling out from beneath her partially opened collar. He'd seen it before, but never dared to ask about it. Maybe now was a good time, since she seemed to be in a friendly, open-minded mood.

"Does the number one have any particular significance to you?" He asked, pointing to the pendant.

She studied him for a moment, her hand moving to the necklace almost unconsciously.

"A… shared joke. My own captain used to call me _Number One_ when I was first officer."

Trygve looked back at her, trying to read off her face. He had a suspicion that there was more to it than just a shared joke.

"You let him call you by a nickname?", he asked, grinning.

She frowned. "He's taller and faster than me."

Trygve laughed. "I'd have loved to see your face when he first came up with that."

…

"It's foolish, but I don't want to go back." She told him, when they sat on the small balcony of Diana's apartment, watching the sunset on their last day of shoreleave. "I should not feel this way… I've made a commitment to Starfleet, made it with all my heart, and I love being in space and serving on the ship, but somehow, it's different now. I've never had something to lose before." Her light blue eyes met his and he could see something akin to fear in them.

He would have liked to kiss her and tell her that everything was going to be alright, but he couldn't. She had never lied to him, so he wouldn't start lying to her, not even to comfort her.

"But haven't you missed your Captain at all?" He asked, trying to lighten the gloomy mood with a joke.

"He tends to get on my nerves sometimes," she replied in kind, "he's always trying to engage me in leisure activities or conversation. Especially the latter. He'll talk, and talk and talk…"

"Hey! What would you have me do? You're not exactly talkative yourself."

"Maybe you're just asking the wrong questions," she replied, resting her head against his shoulder. "And you should ask them now, because tomorrow we'll be back on the ship, as captain and first officer."

"I'll miss you," he said softly, curling a strand of her dark brown hair around one of his fingers. "The person you are, when you're not my first officer."

"She's always there, you know. You'll just have to look deep enough."

"I've just one question for you…"

"Yes, I do love you." She smiled.

"That wasn't it, but I'll take the answer anyway."

He watched as the orange gleam of setting sun brought out dark red highlights in her hair and cast an eerie light on her pale face. Her sudden beauty made his heart ache and he wished that they could stay frozen in this very moment forever.

But time would not stop, not even for them.

…

"I'm officially starting to get worried now," Leonard announced, looking up from the strange readings he had just gotten.

"Well, good," Christine replied, frowning, "'Cause I have been worrying unofficially for a while now. He should be awake by now."

Leonard nodded. "Look at this," he said, showing her the readings, "notice anything abnormal?"

Christine studied the charts intently before replying. "Well – depends on your definition of _abnormal_, I guess. Those are areas of the brain largely associated with memory. But I'm wondering about the amount of neural activity going on there – what the hell is he remembering?"

"At this rate, he's probably not so much remembering as actually _reliving_ things. It must be a side-effect produced by the Centaurian Slug."

"Do you think he'll wake up once he's done _reliving_ whatever it is he's seeing there?"

"To be honest, I have no idea. And I don't like it. We've already tried to bring him back using all kinds of stimulants, both chemical and environmental. Hell, I've even tried slapping him in the face. But so far, he hasn't even stirred."

"Maybe it has to be something associated with those memories. A certain scent, a sound – maybe music or his mother's voice," Christine suggested.

"And how on Earth am I supposed to know what sort of music he listens to? I barely know the man! And his mother has been dead for years, according to Starfleet records." Leonard ran a hand through his dark hair, looking agitated.

"Well," Christine replied reasonably, "you should probably go and talk to the person aboard this ship who knows him best."

"And who would that be?"

"Spock. He has served under Pike before they both came to teach at the Academy."

Leonard looked at her open-mouthed for a minute. "How come I never heard of that?"

"You spend too much time in sickbay. You should come out and talk to people once in a while," she told him with friendly scorn.

"Huh."

…

He tried to stop himself from looking at her from across the room, but it wasn't easy. She seemed so distant to him now that they were back on the ship, but he missed her with every fiber of his body. He missed her smile and the way she looked at him from under long, dark lashes. He missed the scent of her silky hair and the feel of her soft, cool skin under his hands.

Surprisingly enough, life had fallen back into its well-accustomed pattern almost effortlessly. They both moved through their day and through all of the routine work aboard a starship as if nothing had happened. No one had noticed anything strange; no one had asked any awkward questions. It was as if they had woken up from a beautiful, but already distant dream.

But he could not forget, and his mind often travelled to those golden moments back in Rome, when everything had seemed so childishly easy and natural. After his shifts, he lay awake tossing and turning on the bed, and having trouble to find sleep, even though he was tired. He stared up at the darkened ceiling and wanted to be somewhere else, to go back, until suddenly, a soft sound at the door broke his concentration.

Acting on impulse, he allowed it to open, and a slim shadow slipped inside, moving fluidly until it was only about two feet away from the bed.

"What…?" He asked, still struggling to comprehend, when the sound of a zipper cut through the silence of the room. Her uniform fell to the floor, and with it went stockings, shoes and undergarments. She stood very still for a moment, and even though he couldn't see her face, he knew that she was watching him, maybe waiting for a reaction.

"Number One…", he murmured, but then, suddenly, mirth struck him. It was the most unlikely situation, after all. His first officer standing in front of his bed in the middle of the night, and completely and utterly naked, but for a pendant she wore around the neck. "You really _are_ impossible, you know."

She moved closer, sitting down on the edge of the bed. Pike lifted the blanket as an invitation for her to join him.

She hesitated for a moment, but then, with an almost immeasurable shrug, slid under the blanket and into his embrace. "Screw regulations," she said, and he laughed.

"I do love your attitude."

* * *

_So close so far  
I'm lost in time  
Ready to follow a sign  
If there was only a sign  
The last goodbye  
burns in my mind  
Why did I leave you behind?  
Guess it was too  
high to climb_

The Rasmus, Justify

* * *

…

Leonard found Spock in the company of Sarek and Nyota. It was an odd sight, the two silently brooding Vulcan men, and between them a somewhat flustered human woman, trying very hard not to let the situation get too uncomfortable. She seemed almost relieved at his arrival, and Leonard could hardly blame her. Keeping grieving Vulcans company did not seem a very appealing pastime to him.

"I am sorry to disturb you," he said smoothly, keeping his eyes on Spock, who was now looking at him expectantly, "but I need your help, Commander."

"I will assist you in any way I can," Spock assured him promptly.

"Good. It's about Captain Pike. I was told that you have known him for a long time."

"I have known him for several years, yes. I served under him on this ship's predecessor and namesake."

Leonard nodded. "Captain Pike's current condition is… puzzling. He seems to be caught in some kind of ongoing memory loop. It appears to be a side effect of the Slug's toxin. Now, frankly, I am at a loss as to how I could rouse him from his coma. I have tried everything I could come up with, but he won't wake up. Nurse Chapel suggested that we could use something associated to those memories – a sound, a smell, a particular piece of music. The problem is, nobody seems to know Pike well enough to know what that would be. And that's where you could help. At least I hope so."

"I will gladly accompany you to sickbay," Spock told him, "but I must warn you, Doctor – the fact that I served with Captain Pike before, does not necessarily mean that I know him better than others on this ship. Our relationship has always been a professional one. He is not as… open as our current Captain."

_Nice way of putting it_, Leonard thought.

"That's okay, Spock. At this point, I'm glad for any help I can get."

"He does seem oddly happy," Christine Chapel insisted about half an hour later, after studying Pike's face intently. "I think, we should start with happy memories. You know, things that evoke a positive emotional reaction, like favorite songs." She looked at Spock expectantly.

"As far as I know, Captain Pike's favorite piece of music is Tchaikovsky's piano concert in B-minor."

Leonard caught Christine's gaze and shrugged. "It's worth a try, I guess. Anything else, Spock?"

"He mentioned on several occasions that he enjoys homemade cookies, especially when they are freshly baked and still warm. He said that the smell reminded him of his childhood. His favorite colors are ochre and light blue, but that would not be of much help here, since his eyes are closed and he would not see anything."

"Is there anyone… I mean, are there any people he has a more intimate relationship with? Friends? Family?"

"As far as I know, Captain Pike has no living family members except for a paternal aunt and a cousin, who both live in Vega colony. I am sure that there are several people he served with or worked with at Starfleet Academy that he would consider his friends, but unfortunately, I do not know who they are."

Leonard shook his head. "The man seriously needs a _life_. He may be a great captain, but where's the person behind the rank?"

"I was just thinking that he might be pretty lonely," Christine said. "And I still want to know who gave him this." She pointed to the tiny glass bottle.

Spock leaned closer to examine it. "I have seen it before. He already wore it when I first met him. He never spoke about it, though."

Leonard sighed. "Figures," he murmured. Then, turning to Pike, he added: "Who the hell _are_ you?"

…

They had their first serious fight over something that seemed silly to him at the time, but turned out to be much more important than he had thought.

It was another of those dreaded diplomatic missions, only this time, war had already broken out before they reached the system. There was fighting down on the planet, and Pike would have been perfectly happy to let the Ysandrians deal with their own, self-made problems, but unfortunately, they had taken the Vulcan ambassador hostage, so turning back was not an option.

As he put together a team to accompany him to the planet's surface, he was acting in the best interests of his ship and the mission. Or so he thought. It wasn't until his first officer literally stomped into his ready room, that he realized he had _probably_ overlooked something.

"Did you want to tell me anything, Number One?" He asked, looking up into her beautiful eyes, which were now narrowed and filled with barely controlled anger. He had discovered early on that she did have quite a temper. She was just very good at hiding it.

Usually.

"Why exactly are Lieutenant Nilson and Esign Benora accompanying you down to the surface?" She asked, her voice dangerously calm.

"Would you rather have Dr. Melchior and me go there unaccompanied?"

"No, of course not. What I'm asking is: _Why _are you taking a completely inexperienced Esign, whose only virtue is his ability to use a phaser, down to the planet and leaving me on the ship? Last time I checked, I was the only one aboard having at least a basic grasp of the Ysandrian language."

"Yes, but you are the first officer of this ship. If anything were to happen to me down there, I need you to take command."

"Allow me to be frank – that's nonsense. Any officer could get this ship back to the next starbase. You don't need any special talents for that." She bent forward, placing her hands on the table that separated them, glaring at him. "Don't you think I know what you're doing…? Stop trying to protect me. You're doing neither of us a favor, and you might be putting the mission in jeopardy."

He put his hands over hers, in an attempt to calm her. "Maybe to me, there are more important things than the mission," he said quietly.

"No," she replied flatly, "no, there aren't."

And in the end she accompanied them, translating and doing a marvelous job at it. Nothing happened to either of them and they managed to negotiate a seize fire and free the Vulcan ambassador, who had not taken any serious harm.

He tried to make amends, and it seemed that she forgave him, but that didn't resolve the underlying issue. They had now seen that it was there, and the crack wouldn't just close up and go away. Things were never going to be just like they had been back in the days when they had been just captain and first officer…

About a month and a half later, it was Pike who stormed into _her_ office, angrily waving a PADD in his right hand.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

She looked up from her paperwork, frowning at his raised voice and agitated manner.

"I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about," she stated calmly. "Please explain."

"_Of course_ you do! You asked for a transfer!"

"Oh," she said, not sounding remotely shaken or guilty, "that."

"Yes," Pike replied grimly, "_that_. What were you thinking? Did it never occur to you to tell me about it? Maybe ask me whether or not I approved of it? Because I don't."

"I wasn't aware that I needed you permission to make a decision regarding my career."

"I'm your _Captain_, for Heaven's sake! I do believe it concerns me, if my first officer decides to leave this ship."

"I haven't decided yet," She said, "I merely applied for a different position on another ship. There will be other applicants."

"Oh _please_! You're the goddamn best first officer in the Fleet, and someone is bound to have noticed that. Sanchez will be only too happy to snatch you up from under my nose. The question is _why_. Why are you doing this?"

She shrugged. "They are going to promote me, if I make it. From Lieutenant Commander to Commander in just under a year, that's a pretty big step."

"Not buying it. You _are_ ambitious, but you aren't driven by ambition. There has to be something else."

_Please_, his eyes said, _please tell me that this isn't about me and that there is something I can do to stop you._

"It's my life, Christopher. And I won't have you or anyone else telling me what to do with it."

…

"So, the music didn't work," Christine reported. "But he has been stirring and moaning a little, so maybe he's coming around."

"Or maybe, he's just come to the point where the memories are starting to get unpleasant," Leonard replied darkly.

"You're such a pessimist, you know? Have some faith. He's going to wake up."

"Uh-huh. Question is, when?"

Christine shrugged.

"This is just getting really frustrating," Leonard complained. "What is he waiting for, a Princess to kiss him awake…? Wanna try, Christine?"

"I doubt that would help," the nurse replied. "I mean, he doesn't even know me. But…" - she paused to think for a moment – "you might have had a good idea there. Maybe we need someone who's close to him. I mean, really close. Like a very good friend or a lover."

"Well, that'd be a pity for him, because he doesn't appear to have any." Leonard shook his head. "I'm starting to wonder whether he'd even want to wake up. I mean, there seems to be no one who cares about him, except for us and maybe Spock and Jim."

"I'll do some digging into his past," Christine suggested.

"Well good luck with that. The guy seems to be as elusive as a Starfleet version of Zorro."

Meanwhile on the bridge, Jim was being introduced to Captain Francis Campbell and Captain Sofia Mondego by Admiral Archer. Admiral Barnett stood close by, looking worried and displeased.

To Jim's surprise, after the introductions, the Captain of the _Serenity_ turned to his first officer, greeting him cordially.

"Spock. It is so good to see you. It has been a while."

Spock inclined his head. "Indeed."

"I am very sorry for your loss," she said quietly.

"Excuse me, you two know each other?" Jim asked, somewhat surprised.

"We served on the same ship several years ago," Captain Mondego confirmed, before adding with a weary smile, "on the _Enterprise_, actually. The old one, of course."

"Fascinating, " Jim said, unconsciously using one of Spock's favorite words, as he looked from one to the other. "And now you're both back here. Must be destiny."

"And so is Captain Pike," Francis Campbell put in, sending Sofia Mondego a strangely knowing glance. "How is he, by the way?"

"He's asleep in sickbay. He seems to be a little reluctant to wake up, but at least his life doesn't seem to be in danger anymore."

And at that, Jim could have sworn that he heard Captain Mondego sigh in relief.

…

Of course, he had been right about others seeing her potential. She was by far the most qualified applicant for the new position, and obviously, they chose her.

Pike watched mutely as she prepared to leave Enterprise and him, feeling cold and numb inside. They hadn't spoken a private word since the fight in her office, nothing beyond the civil, impersonal necessities of working together on the bridge.

He knew that he couldn't stop her, but he also knew that he couldn't let her go. His ship was losing a damn fine officer, but he himself felt like he was losing not only his heart, but also his mind.

_You cannot leave me. You simply can't. What am I to do without you…?_

Nothing seemed to matter anymore. He was moving through his day and his duties mechanically, like a robot, just functioning but not feeling or comprehending.

He felt like reaching out to her, like taking her into his arms, holding her tight and telling her that she could not leave him, but she already seemed to be miles away.

The evening that was to be her last aboard the ship, she spent packing in her quarters, while he sat alone on the Observation deck, staring at the fleeting stars, knowing that only hours from now, she would be gone for good. He had to do something, anything. He had to at least let her know how he felt, had to see her one last time before she left.

There were no flowers, not dinner, not surprise goodbye gift, just him getting up and slowly, but determinately walking down the corridors to her quarters.

He hesitated a moment, but then the door swung open as if she'd heard him come – and maybe she had. He stood there for a moment, looking at her and feeling the pain of their imminent separation even more acutely than before.

"Come in," she told him, stepping aside. The door closed with a soft swish and she added: "I knew you would come."

_How?_ he wanted to ask her, but didn't, because the next moment, he found himself drawn into a wordless embrace. Their kisses tasted of desperation more than of anything else, and he could swear that he caught the salty taste of tears, too, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was back in his arms, and that he was about to lose her.

"I can't… not without you…", he blurted out, incoherently, only to be kissed again, with as much passion as sadness.

"I want you to have this," she said, drawing the necklace he had seen so often out from under her uniform, pulling it over her head and handing it to him. "It's a family heirloom. I've been wearing it ever since my fifteenth birthday."

He looked down at the tiny glass bottle with the note inside.

"When will I see you again?"

"As soon as I can make it. I promise."

And she always kept her promises.

…

"Dr. McCoy…?"

"Huh?" Leonard blinked against the sudden brightness of light, then sat up and rubbed his eyes. "Spock? What the hell…!"

"Sch!" The Vulcan admonished, and Leonard was starting to believe that he was still asleep and dreaming. "We need your help."

"We…?" But sure enough, there was someone else with Spock. Someone utterly unexpected.

"Now what are the two of you doing in my sickbay in the middle of the night?" He asked irritably.

"I could ask you the same thing," Spock replied calmly, "Should you not be asleep in your quarters?"

"Humph."

"It is a good thing that you are not, though," the Vulcan continued, "Because we need to see one of your patients."

And just then, the person accompanying Spock stepped out of the shadows. Leonard stared up at Captain Sofia Mondego in her crisp Starfleet uniform and had the distinct feeling that he was missing some important information here.

"Captain…?"

She laid a finger to her lips. "I am not here. And I will never have been here," she told him sternly, then added in an afterthought: "You may call me Sofia. It's my given name."

Leonard shook his head in disbelief, then held out his hand. "Leonard. Now, what brings you here at this time?"

"She is the one you were looking for," Spock said.

"Er… could you be any more mysterious, Spock? I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I am Christopher Pike's lover," Sofia told him calmly.

"You what…?" Now Leonard was staring at her, trying to comprehend. "But how… right, you served on the same ship, but that would mean…"

She nodded gravely. "And that's why I need to ask you to keep this very, very quiet."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Leonard asked Spock.

"Because he did not know until about an hour ago," Sofia replied in the Vulcan's place.

"Let me get this straight – you've been in a secret relationship with Pike for what…? Five years?"

"It's actually closer to nine," she said.

Spock turned and raised an eyebrow at her. Apparently, he hadn't known _that_ either.

"Leonard, please," Sofia said urgently, "I need you to believe me. The pendant he's wearing – the little glass bottle – have you seen it?"

He nodded.

"It used to be mine. I gave it to him as a talisman."

"I do believe you," Leonard said slowly, exchanging a glance with Spock. "It's just so… weird."

"Well, I'm glad that's settled," Sofia murmured. "Now, can I see him?"

Leonard nodded. "Of course."


	3. Chapter 3

TALISMAN  
Part III

* * *

"_Tomorrow's taking me away from you  
Like a jealous lover  
Kiss me one last time  
Before I go down this  
broken road I follow  
You will leave me torn  
and sting me like  
A thorn from a dying rose  
The saddest scent of you  
will cling to me I know."_

_(The Rasmus, "Run To You")_

* * *

...

She moved quietly, as if afraid to disturb the unconscious man in his nightmare-troubled sleep. Two steps from the bed, she stopped her approach, bending forward to look at him.

Leonard watched her, but her beautiful face was difficult to read. Was she relieved? Scared? Maybe even angry? It was hard to tell.

He risked a glance at Spock and was rewarded with a raised eyebrow.

Leonard could have sworn that the Vulcan was just as perplexed by this new development as he himself.

_Sofia Mondego, __**Captain**__ Sofia Mondego, is Christopher Pike's lover. _

_Hell, I totally underestimated him. Having an affair with his first officer…? Prudent, upright, boring Pike…? Talk about a wolf in sheep's clothing!_

A clear, calm soprano voice interrupted his reflections. "How long has he been like this?"

"He fell unconscious right after we got him into sickbay and he hasn't been awake since."

"_Will_ he wake up?" Her gaze was piercing. Don't you dare lie to me, her eyes said.

Leonard didn't have the heart to tell her that he was at his wit's end.

"I don't know."

She nodded, as if she had already expected this, or a similar answer.

"What happened to him?" She asked quietly.

Leonard flinched involuntarily. He had already feared that question, and he did not want to answer it. His hesitancy did not pass unnoticed. Sofia Mondego fixed him with a stern gaze, one that could have rivaled Pike's steely glare.

"There's no reason to treat me like a little girl, Dr. McCoy. I did not ascend to my rank by being timid and squeamish. Tell me, or I'll ask him." She pointed to Spock. "And we both know that Vulcans can't lie."

_Ouch. I'm starting to see how she would be a good match for Pike…_

"Well, to put it bluntly, he was taken hostage, threatened, tortured and forced to pass on classified information after having had an alien parasite inserted into his body. Said parasite did some serious damage to his central nerve system and released a toxin affecting the areas of his brain associated with memory. It's a wild guess, and I cannot prove it, because we lack reliable information on this particular creepy-crawly, but he appears to be reliving his own memories and so far, our attempts at waking him have proven unsuccessful."

He watched her closely, curious for her reaction. He saw her swallow hard, but that was about the only sign of emotional upheaval she showed during his little speech.

"Maybe I can help you."

"Maybe you can," he agreed. "Seeing that you probably know him better than anybody else. And if I'm not mistaken, you should have a rather prominent part in these memories."

"What makes you say that?"

"It may sound odd, but he's looked happier asleep and dreaming than I've ever seen him when he was awake. I figured he wouldn't be dreaming about battles and bloodshed."

Her face softened and saddened a little at this. "I don't believe in fairy-tales, Dr. McCoy. I will gladly try to kiss him awake, to talk to him, even sing to him, if you ask me to, but usually, there's no magic involved in medicine."

"No, there isn't" he agreed, "but there _is_ some magic involved in love."

* * *

_"Too much of no sound  
Uncomfortable silence can be so loud  
Those three words are never enough  
When it's long distance love."  
(Madonna, Miles Away)_

* * *

...

Surprisingly enough, life without her wasn't completely unbearable and it settled into its well-accustomed trot easily enough. Yet the longing would never go away, and it left him with a perpetual pain, a sort of dull throb that accompanied him wherever he went.

Of course, they talked via sub-space connection. But there were only so many times her new duties permitted her to slip away for a private conversation without anybody wondering why she spent so much time consulting with her former captain.

Of course, they exchanged messages, but for fear of being discovered, they had to keep them neutral, and in any case, Number One's would probably have been closer to status reports than to ardent love letters even without that caution.

Their preciously rare conversations were also poisoned by the fact that neither of them wanted to trouble the other with his cares and that they were carefully avoiding certain subjects. Pike never mentioned how much she had hurt him by leaving the ship… leaving him. Yet she could read it off his face; see the pain in his eyes every time they looked at her. He never asked her whether it had been worth it. In return, Number One never told him that she had left mainly because she viewed herself as a serious impediment to his career and his good judgment. He would not have understood. He was so emotional; and his feelings often clouded his reason. It was an endearing quality, but also one that could prove fatal in a man of his rank and disposition.

While they weren't exactly honest to one another, they both had a trusted friend at whose feet they could lay all their sorrows and burdens. It was no surprise that Sofia should turn to her beloved little sister. It was a surprise – to both him and Eva – that Chris did so, too.

He first called her about two weeks after Number One had left the ship, after a black night filled with little sleep, tangled dreams and haunting memories. There were questions on his mind that needed answering, and somehow he felt that he couldn't ask his lover.

He caught Eva at home in Buenos Aires, relaxing from a tiring, yet successful season in New York and Moscow.

She seemed a little taken aback, but her reply was not unkind.

"So you're as unhappy as she is," she said, after studying his face for a moment. "My sister called me two days ago, and not five minutes into the conversation, she was crying, Christopher. I was alarmed. Sofia is the strongest, most composed person I know. She doesn't have nervous breakdowns, or at least, she has never had one until now. I guess she finally realized how deep she's already in. "

"It's too late now," he replied sadly.

"Absolutely. She realized she can't turn back, and that's why she's running now. Not from you, Chris. My frightfully smart, astonishingly brave sister is running from herself. She's _scared_."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"In a really warped way, it does. You see, Sofia has always been remarkable, even as a child. But after our parents died, she had all the responsibility for Diego and me, and herself to shoulder. Raw, malleable metal turned into stainless steel. She simply _had_ to be perfect. For our sake, for her own, for our parents'. She wanted them to be proud of her. She wanted to be a role model for us. She had to live up to her own, very high expectations. And she was very successful, which seemed to prove that she was doing the right thing. Look what became of us – a highly decorated Starfleet officer, a prime ballerina, a celebrated architect. Sofia raised Diego and me, teaching us to reach out for the figurative stars, while she reached out for the real ones. But I always knew that one day, the sacrifices we made would come back to haunt us." There was a melancholy look on Eva's face now. "I thought when she brought you to New York to meet us that things would change… not fundamentally, but maybe gradually, in little ways, step by step… for Sofia to bring anybody home is… unprecedented."

He had never thought about it this way.

"My sister loves you," Eva continued, "and I don't think she has ever been in love before. It's all new to her, and it's frightening. But I hope she'll stop running and turn around eventually. I may not have much experience in those matters, but I think you are right for each other. Not only are you right for her, but I think she is right for you, too."

"I agree," he replied quietly.

"Good." Eva smiled faintly. "You are so similar, in some ways. Like you, Sofia has been alone for a long time. All she ever cared about was her career… and her family. She'll have to learn that there's more than that; and knowing Sofia, she'll have to learn the hard way. It might take years, and currently, you're ahead of her. Are you willing to wait for her…?"

"You know that I'd do everything for her," he said.

...

* * *

_"I watch as you sleep  
Your nightmares break the silence  
I can tell that you're in too deep  
Got your mind down to a science  
And every time that I touch you  
I'm losing you."  
(The Rasmus, Lost and Lonely)_

* * *

...

Despite her apparent desire for secrecy, Sofia Mondego spent a considerable amount of time at Christopher Pike's bedside. No one dared to question her motives, though, at least not to her face. Besides, she was by far not the only visitor. Admirals Barnett and Archer came to pay their respects, and Francis Campbell, his friendly round face looking troubled, stopped by more than once. Leonard was unsure whether he was checking up on Pike, whom he barely knew, or on Sofia, but he suspected the latter. It was quite obvious that the Captain of the _USS Boreas _had an innocent crush on his enigmatic colleague.

Another frequent visitor was Spock, who appeared to be intrigued by the idea that the toxin of the Centaurian Slug caused Pike to relive his own memories in his mind. Originally thought up by Christine Chapel, the idea had evolved into a fully blown scientific theory; albeit one that for Leonard's taste ventured a little too far into the realm of philosophical speculation.

"Question is," Christine said, when discussing the topic with Spock once again, "is it a straight road with a beginning and an end, or an ongoing memory loop? And what happens at the end of it, if there is one?"

"It would be impossible to predict the outcome. There are no known precedents," Spock replied.

"Can't you risk an educated guess?" Leonard asked.

"It does seem that the toxin acted as a trigger, but by now it should be out of his system. And I believe you mentioned that you detected no permanent damage to the brain?"

"I said that I found no obvious damage. But the human brain is a complicated organ, and I am not a specialist in the matter. I might have overlooked something. There certainly are some reactions that I do not understand. Hell, I don't understand this entire coma. There's no reason why he should not wake up."

"Well…." Spock said slowly, "is there a reason he should?"

"Maybe there's something he has to work through first," Christine suggested. "Maybe he needs to work all the way through the past back to the present, until he reaches the end of that chain of memories."

"How will we know when he's at the end of it?" Leonard asked.

She shrugged. "We'll know when he wakes up, I suppose."

"And if he doesn't?"

...

"Francis." Trygve Thorsteinsen set down two mugs of coffee on the desk.

"Yes?" Captain Francis Campbell looked up from his work, glancing at the taller man skeptically.

"I have a theory and I need to run it past you to see if I'm not crazy."

"You are crazy. Can I go back to reading my report now?"

"Very funny." Thorsteinsen dropped down heavily into the chair in front of the desk.

Campbell sighed. They had been in one class at the Academy, had played basketball on the same team; wiry little Campbell trying to outrun his lanky friend and rarely succeeding. Somehow, this situation was similar. Literal or figurative, Campbell knew that it was difficult to outrun the Commander. Nine times out of ten, he caught up with you much too soon.

"Fine, then. Give me your theory."

"It's Pike." Thorsteinsen looked at him expectantly.

Campbell raised his eyebrows. "Yes, and...?"

"What and?"

"I'm waiting for the rest of your theory. Pike's in a coma in sickbay. And if you're saying it was he who gave away the frequencies, then yes, that would be true, but it's neither news, nor does it matter now."

Thorsteinsen shook his head. His hair had more and more grey in it, Campbell noticed.

_Are we growing old?_ It was a sad idea.

"No, you don't get it. The person Sofia was so worried about she almost had a nervous breakdown, which - I'm sure - has never happened before. It's Pike."

Campbell shrugged. "Well, he _is_ her former captain," he pointed out.

"Yes, and you are my former captain, too, but I don't think I would race to your bedside leaving everything else behind."

"Gee, thanks, Trygve, that's nice." Campbell frowned. "Besides, she was ordered to do so, just as I was."

"I might come to visit you," Thorsteinsen conceded with a wink. "No, I think your ice princess actually has a heart. Or rather, she did, before she left it with her captain."

Campbell blinked. "What are you saying...?"

"You are surprisingly dense, sometimes. Or maybe you just don't want to believe that the one woman you care about is actually in love with somebody else."

"Turn the knife in the wound, will you?" Campbell shook his head. From where he stood, his infatuation with Sofia was harmless, no ardent passion, just an odd little feeling. But he genuinely cared about her and until now he had thought he had a pretty good grasp of her character. "So you're saying, Sofia Mondego, who probably thinks of emotional involvement as something that only happens to careless people with no self control, is in love with Christopher Pike, who is married to his career and who has just attempted to commit suicide by Romulan madman. You'll have to admit it sounds pretty unlikely."

Trygve took a carefully measured sip of coffee, put down his cup and looked up - or rather _down_ - at him. "Francis. You're the closest thing she has to a real friend. Has she ever touched you outside a professional context and without the strict necessity to do so? Or even had a casual conversation with you?"

"No," Campbell admitted.

"Well, she's over on _Enterprise_, holding his hand and talking to him. And he's asleep, mind you," his friend said smugly.

Francis Campbell's chin dropped.

...

* * *

_"If I stay with you and linger here  
Another moment  
I will fade into the scenery  
You wouldn't even see me  
I've got nothing left to offer you  
It's not that I don't care  
All I ask is that you think of me I swear."  
(The Rasmus, Run to You)_

* * *

..._  
_

It was a routine maintenance stopover before their next mission, but while the ship was left in space dock, captain and crew enjoyed five days of shore leave after their debriefings. Most went home to see their families.

Pike didn't.

He stayed in San Francisco, because rumor had it that Captain Sanchez and his crew would stop by soon to pick up new crewmembers and to bid farewell to some others.

The rumors turned out to be true.

_Maybe _Pedro Sanchez was a bit startled when his first officer hurriedly excused himself as they disembarked and rushed over to a man standing at the edge of the assembled crowd. Truth be told, she almost ran. And it took every ounce of discipline Pike possessed to stay where he was.

They did not hug or kiss or even touch each other at all, but when she stood in front of him, face slightly flushed and lovely, he saw the light in her eyes. It was enough.

"Sofia." He didn't use her first name often, but when he did, it meant so much more than those five letters.

"Cristo." She smiled. "It is good to see you."

"Join me for lunch?" He suggested, offering his arm. She took it lightly; like a friend or a colleague might accept a gallant gesture. She was a much better actor than he was.

"Is there any chance we could quietly disappear for a few hours?" He asked out of the corner of his mouth, looking straight ahead because he could not bear to look at her and keep up the pretense.

She shook her head. "Not now. Maybe tonight."

"Then this is going to be one hell of an awkward lunch."

She lightly squeezed his arm. "I have faith in you."

"Oh good. You're the only one right now. I am this close to causing a scene."

"You have made time in your impossibly busy schedule to share lunch with your former XO and catch up with her. Act like it."

"I'm trying."

It was frustrating, watching her across the table, eating seafood fettuccine with apparent delight.

"How long will you be in town?" She asked.

"Until tomorrow afternoon." There was quiet despair in his voice.

She nodded. "Tonight, then. There's a meeting at five that I'm forced to attend, and Captain Sanchez and I were asked to attend a dinner with Admiral Keppler and Federation dignitaries, but I can skip that..." She thoughtfully eyed the seafood on her plate. "Maybe the mussels were bad? Stomach cramps would be a good excuse."

"Stomach cramps?" He echoed incredulously.

She shrugged. "What? I can hardly tell my captain and the Admiral that I cannot join them because I would rather have passionate sex with you, right? Although it would be interesting to see their faces if I did."

"Dear Lord...!" Pike shook his head, helplessly caught between laughter and frustration. "So... tonight?"

"As soon as I can flee that meeting. Where will I find you? Do not get me wrong, but I would rather not join you in your quarters. It might raise suspicions."

"I have an apartment in the city. At the moment, I mainly use it to store my things, but I daresay it is private enough. And it has a balcony." He smiled, and caught her gaze.

"I remember Rome," she said slowly.

...

She always kept her promises, and she did that night.

"That was a short meeting," he commented, opening the door for her. She was dressed in civilian clothing and jeans and a t-shirt had never looked so good on anyone else.

"Well, I basically told my captain to quit rambling and get to the point. I believe he was a little shocked, to tell you the truth."

She stepped inside and into the circle of his arms, resting her head against his shoulder. They held each other for a long moment.

"I hate this," he told her quietly. "The separation, the secrecy, only getting to see you for a few hours..."  
"You would hate it even more if I asked you to discontinue your career in Starfleet," she pointed out. "Neither of us is ready for civilian life yet, Cristo. If ever."

She was right, but he still wished it had been otherwise.

He sighed. "Why us, huh?"

"Because we are great together," she answered sincerely. "Despite the odds."

And they were. They fit so well together, minds, bodies, all. His words and her silences, her dry sense of humor and his laughter, his brash courage and her careful reserve... they each brought out unexpected traits in each other; careful, almost reverent tenderness on his side, combined with a fear of losing the most valuable thing in his life, and an intense, almost reckless passion on hers, so out of line with her usual self-composure.

"Are you still angry with me for leaving you?" She asked.

He looked up at her. Her dark hair fell silky and loose onto her naked shoulders and the silver pendant he had given her dangled between her full breasts.

"_That's _ what you're thinking about right now?" He would never fully understand the way her mind worked.

"Well, it is important to me," she pointed out.

"Obviously. But it's kind of unfair to ask me something like that while you're naked and on top of me."

"Oh...?" She asked, bending down a little lower. He groaned.

"Right now, you could ask me just about anything and I would tell you what you wanted to hear."

"Really." Her brows arched upwards.

"Yeah." He traced the sinuous curve of her spine and felt her shiver beneath the touch.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes. In a parallel universe, where we get to do that and still keep our jobs, sure."

She laughed. "Point taken. So, about my original question...?"

He sighed. "Yes. Sometimes I am still angry with you. But I understand why you did it, and I can't really blame you. You've always been the reasonable one and I... well, I couldn't have done it. If there was any chance to get you back on my ship, I'd take it, no matter what the cost."

She cupped his cheek in her hand, gazing down at him. "And I would probably do it. So don't offer me that choice. Please."

...

She was right, when the opportunity to return to his side presented itself, she did not find the strength to resist. In her defense, though; it was right after he had sustained his most serious injury in all his years of service to Starfleet, in an incident that turned the poor old _Yorktown_ into a sad heap of metal shrapnel and lifeless conduits.

For his troubles, they gave him a newer, larger, fancier ship.  
A ship bearing a noble name, inherited from Archer's legendary vessel.

_Enterprise._

He was there to see them off, too, Admiral Archer. A tall old man,silver hair and lively grayish blue eyes in a nest of wrinkles, smiling at her.

She had served under him as a tactical officer for a few months, and he was oddly fond of her. She liked him, too, as much as you could like a living legend.

At the ceremony, she watched her once and future captain trying not to show that he was still in pain. Anger burned hot in her throat.

_Idiot. Everybody can see you wincing beneath all those shoulder slaps and your own cheery smile._

She could not, would not forget how close she had come to losing him, and it scared her. It scared her more than she cared to admit, more than anything had ever scared her before.

_If this is what true love feels like, I am not sure I will be able to face it..._

She was not smiling when they boarded the shuttle, not looking at him when she sat down next to him. But he knew how to read her poker faces, all of them. He knew how to interpret her silences, and the tension in various parts of her body.

He knew.

"You're mad at me," he stated under his breath.

"You. Almost. Died," she hissed out of the corner of her mouth.

"Is that why you came back?"

"To keep an eye on you...? Oh, absolutely."

He _chuckled_. The audacity almost took her breath away. "Remind me to put myself in danger more often."

She clenched her fists tightly. It was all she could do not to hit him there and then and in front of half the crew.

Later, in the scarce privacy of her new quarters, she was less circumspect.

"Ouch," he complained. "Watch it, I'm still recovering."

"That is precisely what I am trying to remind you of," she replied spitefully. "You are recovering from a nearly fatal injury. You could have died."

"I know," he said softly, holding her close.

She shook her head. "I doubt it. You leapt at the chance of an even more dangerous mission before your wounds were properly healed. Do you have a death wish, or are you simply careless?"

"Number One." A soft sigh. "This is my life. The life we both chose. Space is dark and full of hidden dangers, and all that, right?"

"Let me get this straight - you try to keep me from participating in moderately dangerous away missions, but _you_ get to risk your life in new and idiotic ways whenever you choose?" She tore herself from his embrace, glaring at him. "That is not how this works, Chris."

She studied his face, an open book as always. He looked somewhat contrite at that. A little bit. A tiny little bit.

She sighed, anger turning go exasperation. _Why am I doing this to myself? My life was not perfect before you came along, but it was certainly a lot easier to manage._

"I'll give you a fair shot at the away missions, just like every other officer aboard," he offered. "And I'll try not to alert everyone to the fact that it scares me to death when someone points a weapon at you or when you're in imminent danger of suffocation, drowning or being crushed by heavy objects."

"I would appreciate that," she replied drily. "Kindly also refrain from willfully putting yourself in situations where you might be shot, stabbed, suffocated, drowned or crushed. Can you do that?"

"I'm not suicidal, you know." But he was smiling.

She put her hands on his shoulders. "Repeat after me, love: Heroism is the third most likely cause of death in space after idiocy and mechanical failures."

His laughter was a soothing as his touch.  
"Here's a promise," he said quietly, "when you're ready, really ready to quit space and settle down somewhere on firm ground and be content to only watch the stars from below; tell me, and I'll come with you without another word. Because I have found what I'm looking for, and I don't think there's anything better out there. And I'll be happy if you are."

For a moment, she was too stunned to speak. She had not expected something like that, not of him.

In the end, she simply said "Thank you" and kissed him.

...

* * *

_"Maybe I'm an open book because I know you're mine,  
But you won't need to read between the lines.  
For your eyes only, only for you."  
(Sheena Easton, For Your Eyes Only)_

* * *

...

"How come you never noticed anything?" Leonard asked Spock, watching Sofia Mondego hold Pike's hand. She was talking to him, her voice low and intimate, comforting. "It seems so obvious, when you look at them now."

"Not back then," Spock replied. "They must have taken great caution to hide their relationship. I assume it helps that they are both excellent at masking their feelings. She is very skilled at schooling her face into a neutral expression, and he never hid the fact that he was fond of her. He simply pretended that it was friendship and respect rather than a deeper sentiment."

"Still," Leonard mused. "It seems so odd. Nine years is a long time."

"They spent much of that time apart. Two years on _Enterprise_, then she left. When he went to serve at the Academy, she was in deep space. It cannot have been easy."

"Is that sympathy, Spock?" Leonard asked, raising his brows.

"I am not completely impervious to the plight of others, Doctor," Spock replied, voice slightly haughty. Maybe he was offended, but Leonard did not think it very likely. "And I believe I understand a bit of complicated relationships; after all I am the product of one."

For a moment they remained silent, watching the unlikely couple.

Leonard thought about Spock's last comment. The product of an unlikely relationship, indeed! But apparently, it had worked out somehow, and the result was certainly remarkable.

"If he wakes up, she will resign her command," Spock suddenly said.

"Did she tell you that?" It did surprise him, but only a little. Captain Mondego seemed very dedicated to Starfleet, but he had seen the expression on her face when she looked at Pike. She was even more committed to _him_.

"She did. It will be a great loss for Starfleet. She also told Admiral Barnett. I believe it is his secret hope that Captain Pike will not regain consciousness anytime soon."

"Spock that's mean." Leonard shook his head. "I am hopeful, though. The results of the last test I took were promising. Having her here does seem to help somewhat."

"It might also be wishful thinking," Spock cautioned. "Humans seem to like the idea that love has magical powers. Yet it is just another emotion."

"You've obviously never been in love," Leonard muttered. "Maybe you ought to ask your father about that. I'm sure he's got a few things to say about the power of love."

"Maybe," Spock conceded.

...

"Am I supposed to see something in this colorful picture?" Admiral Archer asked, looking at the excited faces of doctor, nurse and acting captain and the composed, if somewhat smug expressions of Spock and Sofia Mondego.

"Brain wave patterns," Christine Chapel supplied helpfully, beaming at him.

Archer raised his silver brows. "Yes...?"

"Those are Captain Pike's," Leonard explained, "and to cut a long story short, they mean he's waking up."

"Oh." Archer's expression brightened. "Well, that's great news, right?" He slapped Leonard on the shoulder. "Good job."

"Ah, not me, sir. Them." He nodded towards Spock and Sofia.

"I simply analyzed the data," Spock said.

"And I held his hand," Sofia matched him. "There is no magic in that."

"Liar," Leonard said mildly. He had grown to like her in the past few days and he could see what Pike admired about her.

"Just in time," Archer said. "We are just twelve hours from Earth. I'll let Starfleet Medical know, but I'll have them arrange the details of transport with you, Dr. McCoy." He smiled. "Maybe he won't miss his own party after all. Have you notified the family, Captain Mondego?"

"Yes sir. His aunt and cousin are on their way to San Francisco."

Archer nodded. "Very well, then. I'll pass the good news to everybody else. The crew will be relieved to hear it; Pike seems to be very popular with them."

"He's a hero," Jim said softly.

"So are you, kid. And so is everybody else aboard this ship. Oh I know, Barnett is still grumbling about rules and regulations, but he'll get over it."

Leonard smiled and caught identical smiles from everyone else but Spock and Sofia, but even her lips twitched a little.

_I guess I was wrong, _he mused, _Pike does have friends and people who care about him, after all._

"Will Captain Pike face a tribunal?" he asked.

"While he's at Medical? I doubt it," Archer replied. "And he'll be there for a while, right?"

"Six to eight months, including rehab. And that's a guess."

Archer shrugged. "That's more than enough time for me to clear his name. I may need your findings on the Centaurian Slug and its poison, though, Doctor."

"Of course."

"Good," Archer nodded, before turning to face Sofia. "Would you accompany me? I have something I need your opinion on."

"Very well, sir." She got up, nodding towards the others. "Thank you Doctor, Nurse Chapel, Captain, Commander."

...

She followed him outside.

"My opinion, sir?" She looked at him sideways.

His lips twitched. "The phrase _'I need to talk to you in private' _always struck me a little melodramatic."

"It largely depends on context and inflection."

"True," he conceded. "They like you, you know."

She raised her brows. "I beg your pardon?"

"The people in that room. Pike's crew. They like you. McCoy is half smitten with you, but then, he never was able to resist a beautiful woman. He is just too much of a gentleman to brag about it like Jim Kirk does. I taught them both at the Academy. They are a handful, I tell you." He smiled wistfully.

She waited politely to finish his thought.

"So, anyway, they like you. I guess that's good. Most of them are Pike's own cadets, his own recruitments even. They're like his kids." He stopped and turned to look at her.

"Are you trying to tell me something, sir?" she asked, slightly exasperated. She liked Archer, but he had a tendency to ramble. Maybe it was the age. He _was_ the oldest human member of Starfleet still on active duty, after all.

"No, I am actually hoping that you'll tell me," Archer said.

She sighed. "Yes, I am in a relationship with Captain Christopher Pike of the _USS Enterprise_. Would you like me to hand in my resignation now or after we have returned to Earth?"

Archer smiled. "So you do have a sense of humor, after all. Good."

"You seem neither surprised, nor particularly upset, sir," she commented, eyeing him curiously. His reaction was not quite what she had expected.

"I am an old man, Sofia." He sighed softly. "And you were ever my favorite tactical officer. I was rather unwilling to let you go to serve on the _Yorktown_, even though I knew it would help your career. But I thought that Chris Pike had much to teach you. Little did I know he would become more than a commanding officer to you. How did that happen, by the way?"

She shrugged. It was a difficult question to answer, once you thought about it in depth. There were so many possible things to say, and most of them were right.  
In the end, she opted for a simple explanation. "He is a remarkable person."  
"That he is," Archer agreed. "What will you do now?" he asked after a brief pause.  
"What I told Admiral Barnett. I will resign my commission and give Chris the support he needs to recover from his injuries. I thought I might try to _live_ with the man I love for a while. I never had a chance to do that before, not even while we were serving on the same ship. _Especially _not while we were serving on the same ship... Should be interesting."

Archer put a hand on her arm. She tried not to flinch. It was meant to be a reassuring gesture, after all. "You'll be fine. And he is a very lucky man." He smiled wryly. "You just _had _ to give Barnett another thing to rant about, didn't you? I'll never hear the end of this one, and neither will Chris."

"I believe Admiral Barnett actually derives enjoyment from being a choleric misanthrope," she replied drily.

...

* * *

_"I'm alright, don't be sorry, but it's true  
When I'm gone you'll realize  
That I'm the best thing that happened to you."  
(Madonna, Miles Away)_

* * *

...

Two years on _Enterprise_.

Two years of secrets and hidden glances, of faked camaraderie and real friendship, stolen moments, good times and bad.

They came to an end when she was offered her own captaincy.

"I'm so proud of you," he whispered into her hair, and she knew it to be the truth. "You will make a great captain."

"I learnt from the best," she replied, and it made him laugh.

"I'll miss you." His fingers stroked through her hair and down the side of her face. She lay her cheek against his hand.

"I know."

"Don't get shot, stabbed, drowned or crushed by heavy objects, okay?"

"That is not funny," she complained, "not at all."

"There's a certain irony to it. But just... be safe. And be happy. There are worlds out there for you to explore and missions to complete, and you'll do great. And you will always have my heart, no matter how far you travel. Always."

There was a big lump in her throat that refused to be swallowed. She knew not what to say, so she remained silent and simply reached for the talisman he wore on a silver chain around his neck and put it into his hand.

...

"That is an interesting necklace," Dr. Boyce commented after dressing a bloody scratch on the Captain's chest. "A memento of some sorts?"

Pike smiled wistfully, turning the little glass bottle between his fingers.

_I want you to have this. _Her beautiful, serious face as she gave it to him.

"Yes. You could say so."

"Ah-ha. So it is a love token."

He started. "Who said that?"

Boyce grinned. "The look on your face. You look dopey. It has to be somebody special who gave it to you."

"Okay, fine." Pike pulled on his shirt, hiding the pendant beneath it. "But keep it to yourself, okay?"

"Christopher, you are, like everybody else, entitled to a private life," Boyce told him earnestly. "I won't pry."

"Thanks." He gave a soft sigh. "She really is special, but things are a bit... difficult."

_Major understatement. Oh well..._

"She isn't married, is she?"

"What? No, of course not. But we're both married to our jobs, and long distance relationships suck."

"I hear you. So does my wife, I believe. But what can you do, eh?"

"Nothing," Pike muttered. "How do you do it?" he suddenly asked.

"What, be in Starfleet and still have a life? With great difficulty, let me assure you." Boyce smiled wryly. "But Tricia and I have been married for a long, long time and she's an exceptionally patient woman. It was often hard on her... still is, I guess. Makes me feel guilty sometimes. But I love my job just as much as she loves hers. She's a pediatric nurse, you know? We actually met at a hospital." He laughed. "Odd place to meet, really."

_Not as odd as on a Starship. Figures - doctors and nurses meet in hospitals, Starfleet captains and their XOs in space. I guess there must be some truth to the claim that most people meet their future partners on the job..._

"Where did you meet your girlfriend?" Boyce asked with good natured interest.

"In Buenos Aires," Pike replied truthfully.

"Oh, nice. Lovely city. And a lovely lady, I bet." He grinned.

"Yes, she is."

...

"I talked to Dr. Boyce today," he told her in one of their rare calls. "Did you know he was married?"

"Twenty-seven years," she confirmed. "His wife's name is Patricia Applebloom, they have two children, a daughter, Lauren, and a son, Gale. Twenty-five and twenty-two, Gale is the younger one."

He shook his head. "How do you keep track of all those details?"

"I have a good memory," she replied modestly.

"No kidding."

"Mhm. Do you ever think about it?"

"About what?"

She spread her hands. "All that... getting married, raising a child. It is... natural to think about those things, right?"

"Sometimes," he admitted.

_Too often, really. Especially considering that it's impossible for us._

She nodded. "I thought so."

"Do you?"

"Not really." It was impossible to tell whether or not she was lying. "But I thought you might think about it. It fits. I think you would like having a family."

"I would," he said. "But only with you, and since that's not an option... well. Let's not get lost in too many 'what ifs', okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. Her smile was somewhat sad.

"Hey. There's no reason to get all worked up about not feeling bad about the impossibility of hypothetical children." _Only you, Number One, only you..._

"No?" she asked. "But I should feel something, right?"

"Why? Maybe you just don't want children. And since they are hypothetical anyway, I'm sure they don't mind all that much."

_I am sure this never happens to other men, either: having to assure their girlfriend that her lack of emotional response to a self-chosen dilemma isn't a serious character flaw._

"There is _nothing_ wrong with you," he told her firmly. He wanted to take her hands in his, hold them gently, reassure her. Space separated them, dark and cold and empty, but a lot of other things did, too.

"I am hundreds of light years away from the man I love, because we both chose our careers over each other. What does that tell you about us?" she asked.

He frowned. She had a point there.

"That we're a right pair of idiots, I guess. But at least we're a good match in that respect."

"True."

...

* * *

_"You're out of control inside  
I don't need x ray vision  
To see all the desperate signs  
You made your heart a prison  
I took it all out of fear of losing you"  
__(The Rasmus, Lost and Lonely)_

* * *

...

It was quiet. That was the first thing he grew aware of, the lack of sound, of voices, shouting, machinery and battle… nothing. Just the quiet hum indicating that the sophisticated medical equipment in sickbay was functioning well within its normal parameters. A faint glow to his left announced that a monitor was showing his vitals, heart rate, body temperature, all in order or there would have been a warning signal.  
For a while, he had been in an odd state of half-awareness and had sensed people moving around him, but there was nobody here now. Little did he know that just as he had woken up, the ship's computer had set off an alert in the CMO's quarters, letting him know that his patient was conscious.  
Pike looked around without moving his head too much – the muscles in his neck felt stiff and protested even the slightest movement in any direction – and to his great satisfaction noticed that there were no other patients present. Which probably meant that the crew, his crew, was doing just fine. His memories of what had actually happened to put _him_ here were still a fuzzy haze, so he brushed past that issue and concentrated on his body.  
It was in bad shape, he could tell that without being a medical professional. But at least all the important parts were still attached, and that was something. There was pain in his neck, pain in his back, down the side of his bruised ribcage, pain in his right arm… pain was good, though. Pain meant that he was still alive. Or at least that was what Boyce would have said.  
The lack of sensation in his lower extremities worried him a bit, but he'd wait for the doctors to tell him more about that.  
Speaking of which… there was a noise by the door, and not a moment later, McCoy stood by his bedside, looking down at him. The young doctor's handsome face split into a wide grin.  
"It's good to see you awake, sir."  
McCoy put a hand on his shoulder, lightly, and checked something on the monitor. "Looking good," he announced. "Do you need anything?"  
"Water?" Pike suggested. His voice felt and sounded rough and his mouth was dry.  
"Of course." McCoy got a cup of water and a straw and held it for him. "Are you in pain?" he asked, after Pike had drained the cup.  
"Nothing unbearable, but it hurts."  
"That was to be expected. I'll give you a light painkiller, it'll help you sleep."  
"I just woke up," Pike protested.  
McCoy smiled. "Yes, but your body is exhausted. It's been through a lot, you know?"  
Pike decided to ignore that comment. "How long was I out?"  
"A while," McCoy replied evasively. "Long enough for us to worry about you. And I won't lie to you; you have a lot of time in a hospital ahead of you. Recovery will take its time."  
"I get the feeling I should be happy to be alive," Pike said drily, looking at him questionably.  
McCoy nodded emphatically. "You should. Other people will be, too. Is it okay if I spread the good news? Admirals Barnett and Archer are giving us an escort back to Earth, and they'll be glad to hear that you are awake. So will Jim and every member of the crew. And your girlfriend."  
Pike frowned at him. _Girlfriend? _"Girlfriend?" he echoed aloud. "I don't have a girlfriend."  
McCoy was grinning again; he seemed to be enjoying this. "In that case, tell me why Captain Sofia Mondego sat by your bedside, holding your hand while you were unconscious? She even offered to kiss you awake, you know? I respectfully declined on your behalf."  
Pike's jaw dropped.  
_Sofia. Number One. Well, I'll be damned…  
_"Where is she?" he asked, anxiety and longing all too audible in his voice.  
"Aboard her ship. They are part of our escort."  
It didn't make sense, but he accepted it without comment. What mattered was that she was here, or at the very least nearby. Although… "_Girlfriend_ is the very last term I would use to describe her, and please don't mention it in her presence, if you want to keep both our heads attached to our shoulders." Relief made him almost cheerful.  
_She's here. She's safe and healthy and I'll get to see her soon.  
_"Oh, I wouldn't," McCoy assured him. "She scares me a little. She's like a mixture of you, Spock and Nyota Uhura at her most fearsome… not a woman I'd like to cross, really."  
Pike smiled. _Yeah, that's her.  
_"Will you tell her I'm awake? Please." _She must have been worried sick. And she had no one to help her, because she couldn't tell anyone…_  
"I will," McCoy promised.  
Pike nodded lightly and sank back onto his pillow with a contended sigh.

...


	4. Chapter 4

TALISMAN  
Part IV

* * *

_"Was it an angel that knocked on my door?  
Or was it the wind?  
Was I still sleeping lost in a dream?  
Or was it you?"  
(The Rasmus, Live Forever)_

* * *

...

The next time he woke up, he felt a little better. Maybe it was due to the painkiller McCoy had administered. Or to the fact that the first thing he saw was a beloved, familiar face.  
"You are awake." Her lips curved into a wide smile. There was a soft gleam in her eyes, the beginning of tears she had not cried and would not cry in present company.  
"Number One." Her fingers grasped his, intertwining.  
"By your side, sir."  
He had missed her particular brand of wry humor...!  
"How are you feeling?" She asked quietly.  
"Half drowned, nearly suffocated, and definitely crushed by a heavy object, but lucky to be alive." That about summed it up. It also made her smile again, almost imperceptibly. Which had been the point really.  
"That is not entirely inaccurate."  
"Very happy to see you, too," he added.  
"You should be." She bent down, placing a kiss on his brow. "You nearly managed to kill yourself this time. Again."  
"But I got your attention, didn't I?"  
"And everybody else's, yes."  
A soft cough to the side announced the presence of somebody else. Chris turned his head to shoot the unwelcome intruder an unfriendly look – and stopped mid-movement when he realized it was Admiral Archer.  
"Finally done catching up on your beauty sleep, Christopher?" Archer asked, blue eyes twinkling merrily.  
"Very funny," Chris grumbled. "Why are you here?"  
"I'm your alibi. Barnett's up in arms and already planning fiery speeches denouncing you and this entire crew as a bunch of irresponsible nutjobs in front of Command. The last thing he needs is an excuse to initiate procedures against the two of you for – oh, let me see, eight years of misconduct?"  
"Nine," Number One told him mildly.  
"Which probably makes you the current record holders in that department, congratulations," Archer said, rolling eyes. "I told them time and time again that they might just as well drop the entire issue of sexual relations among enlisted personnel. Those rules only exist to be broken. But no one listens to the voice of reason. That, or they still secretly suspect me of having had an affair with one of my two female officers aboard _Enterprise_. It's an old rumor, but hard to kill."  
"Did you?" She deadpanned.  
Archer sent her an exasperated look. "T'Pol and Hoshi Sato. What do you think? One is the daughter of a family friend, and I actually babysat her a couple of times as a teenager and changed her diapers. The other is a Vulcan. And she hates dogs."  
"I see your point," she said, before turning back to Chris.  
"I'm afraid the cat is out of the bag," she told him. "But I was hard-pressed to come up with a reasonable explanation why your former first officer would sit by your bedside and hold your hand."  
"It's okay," he assured her. "It doesn't matter." _As long as you are here._  
"They are transferring you to Starfleet Medical in San Francisco," she explained. "I cannot come with you now, but I will be there as soon as I can, okay? Dr. McCoy will accompany you."  
"Okay." He didn't want to part with her so soon, but he understood that she would have come with him if they had let her.  
"They won't let you come, because you aren't family," he realized.  
She nodded. "That, too. But I also have a ship and a crew to take care of. The debriefings may take a while... this was no ordinary mission."  
"I'll be fine."  
She shook her head. "I will come to see you as soon as I can. They cannot deny me personal leave, especially not if I have a doctor's recommendation, and I am planning to get one as soon as possible."  
He smiled. "Barnett will _really_ hate my guts."  
"Oh yes," Archer cut in, "but there's not much he can do about it." He sounded faintly vindictive.  
"You are enjoying this," Number One accused him.  
"Maybe a little bit?" Archer measured a small quantity between his thumb and index finger. "Yes, I guess I am."  
"Why is he here, anyway?" Chris wondered.  
"Well, among other things, as superintendent of the Academy he is the current head of the Academy Board, and this is a ship full of cadets. Besides, he and I were the two highest ranking officers currently aboard ships within reasonably close range of _Enterprise_. Barnett was inspecting the training program aboard the _Serenity - _that's Barnett for you, sticking to his prearranged schedule in the middleof a goddamn intergalactic crisis - and I was a passenger on the _Boreas_, travelling back to Earth after attending a diplomatic conference held at Starbase 12. Command felt that our expertise was needed to deal with this delicate situation."  
"Oh joy," Chris muttered ironically.  
Archer put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't you worry about that now. You concentrate on getting back on your feet; I'll take care of your cadets. They are a remarkable lot. I'm sure Command will see that once they get the full picture of what happened on Vulcan."  
"Thank you."  
"You're welcome, Christopher. Get well soon. We need you."

...

McCoy accompanied him on the medical shuttle that took him back down to Earth, arguing with the medical technicians about the finer point of handling his equipment all the while. It was oddly comforting to let their discussion wash over him.  
"Don't go to sleep just yet," McCoy said when the shuttle set down. "They'll want to run some tests first, to determine the appropriate treatments, and they need you awake for that."  
"How long will they keep me?"  
"A good while. You might as well make yourself comfortable at Medical, you are not leaving anytime soon. The fact that you are awake and talking and don't appear to suffer from amnesia is comforting, but you were tortured, poisoned and something tried to eat your brain. It'll take time to repair the damage. A lot of time, likely."  
"What about my legs?"  
McCoy frowned. "I can't say. I'm not a specialist, Captain. There is neurological damage, and likely, some of it will be reversible. Maybe all of it. But I can't accurately predict anything yet."  
At least he was honest. "Fair enough," Chris said. "Oh, and McCoy? It's Christopher. I'm not your captain anymore."  
McCoy grinned unexpectedly. "I know. Jim is. How the hell did that happen, huh?" He took Chris' hand. "Leonard."  
"Please don't let him blow up the rest of my ship...?" Chris asked.  
"I think Admiral Barnett will effectively prevent him from doing anything stupid. And the ship will be in space dock for repairs for a good while. It needs a new warp core, among other things."  
Chris winced. "A new warp core? How in the world...?"  
McCoy - Leonard - shook his head. "I am going to discuss the details of what happened while you were off ship and unconscious with you, at least not until you are able to sit up on your own. You need rest, not further excitement."  
"I hate doctors," Chris muttered.  
"You will enjoy your stay at Medical, then," Leonard replied.  
"Oh, I'm _sure_."

...

The first few days of his stay at Medical were surprisingly restful. People spoke to him in quiet, gentle voices, asking him questions that tested his memory and various higher brain functions, running scans and testing his neural reactions on various parts of his body. Other than that, they let him sleep a lot.  
He asked for Sofia, but the attending nurse told him that he was not to receive any visitors just yet.  
After two days, they let his aunt and cousin visit for an hour. Chris hadn't been close with them during the last few years, but he was glad to see them nevertheless. He would have preferred to see Sofia, though.  
On day three, McCoy came with a handful of hand-written notes and cards, flowers and a stuffed animal from the crew. "They wouldn't let me bring the chocolates," he explained. "You're not supposed to eat anything but hospital food yet." He put the stuffed animal on the bedside table.  
"What's that?" Chris asked.  
"It's from Chekov. It's supposed to be a horse... I think. Somebody found out that you like horses, apparently."  
Chris coughed. "I'm not five years old, though."  
Leonard shrugged. "Keep it and save it for your kids, or something."  
"I don't have children, Leonard."  
"... yet." Leonard sat down in the chair next to the bed.  
"Ever...?" Chris suggested doubtfully.  
"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure of that. Your scary girlfriend just resigned her commission, applied for personal leave and kicked up a big fuss because they wouldn't let her visit you. She seems pretty committed."  
Chris' head jerked up. "She _resigned_?"  
Leonard nodded. "Yeah. Command seems a little helpless rightnow, to tell you the truth. After losing six captains to the Romulan madman, and having one on medical leave for a yet indeterminate amount of time, they lose the ninth to you. Not to mention all those fine officers they could have promoted to fill the voids."  
Chris swallowed. He had tried not to give too much thought to the many, many people who had died in the attacks, but now...  
"Six?" He asked softly.  
Leonard nodded, looking grim. "Six captains. Six skeleton crews and six ships full of cadets. That's almost the entire senior class and quite a few of the younger ones. Not to mention one planet and nearly all of its people. And 47 Klingon warbirds and their crews. I'm no fan of the Klingons, but I'm sure they have families, too."  
Chris recited their names in his mind: _Newton, Endeavor, Antares, Odyssey, Wolcott, Farragut,_ _Enterprise.  
_Seven ships, seven crews. Only one had survived the attack.  
Leonard put a hand on his arm. "There is nothing any of us could have done," he said. "And getting into survivor's guilt will accomplish nothing, either. You need to concentrate on getting back on your feet. For once, let other people worry about the rest."  
Easier said than done.  
"And Sofia?"  
"I am quite convinced that the next thing she'll do is march into the Commander's office and demand access to you. So she should be here no later than tomorrow." Leonard smiled. "She is very, very determined."  
"Yes, she is." Not that he had ever doubted that.  
"I know you haven't asked for my advice, but if I was in your place, I'd consider marrying her. It would make things a lot easier."  
"In this condition?" Chris almost laughed. "No."  
Leonard shrugged. "It's just a formality, really, and all you have to do is be present, awake and certifiably sane. And it would give her nearly unlimited access to you and a really good excuse to stay with you and to extend her leave."  
"That is a terribly unromantic way of looking at things," Chris complained, but he had to admit that he saw the merits of the suggestion.  
"You can still have a party and all that once you are back on your feet."  
"I am pretty sure there is a rule against that," Chris said.  
Leonard shook his head. "No. Sofia researched it already. She and Archer have been putting their heads together, trying to figure out a way to keep Barnett from charging you with misconduct."  
"Can he do that?"  
"He ranks higher than both of you, and he has reasonable cause to suspect that you've violated various regulations, so yes, I guess he can. Question is, will he. Admiral Barnett is no fool. He is a stickler to the rules, true, but he won't initiate proceedings if there is no chance of a conviction. So far, he hasn't found a single piece of evidence or testimony to suggest that the two of you have been acting inappropriately while on duty. All the possible witnesses are oddly reluctant to testify or are utterly convinced of your moral integrity. And of course, _nobody_ has actually caught you _in flagrante delicto_. I've heard Captain Campbell tell him with a perfectly straight face that, in his opinion, Sofia may have harbored feelings for you for a long time, but has never acted on them and has for the first time expressed them when she thought you were dying from your injuries."  
Chris almost felt sorry for Admiral Barnett. Almost.  
"Anyway," Leonard continued. "Sofia looked it up, and there is no rule preventing a Starfleet captain from getting married while he or she is on personal leave. There is a rule against conducting personal business while on duty, but while you're on leave, you are free to do as you please as long as it's not a criminal offense or detrimental to the reputation and good standing of Starfleet. Also, while sexual and marital relationships between personnel serving aboard the same ship, as well as sexual relations between personnel and _anyone_ while they are on duty, are expressly forbidden, there is no rule saying that you can't be in a relationship while you're on leave. So basically, no one can keep a Starfleet captain, who's on medical leave, from marrying another Starfleet captain, who doesn't serve on the same ship and is on personal leave."  
"She's given this quite a bit of thought, hasn't she?" Chris asked, wondering. It would take him some time to get used to the fact that she wanted to marry him. _For real.  
_Leonard nodded. "She is very resourceful."  
"This is not how a marriage should begin."  
"Why not?" The young doctor shrugged. "People get married because they love each other and want to stay together, right? At least in our culture. And even if it's not perfect, and if you're still chained to this bed, I'm sure she'll say yes... if you ask her nicely. If she doesn't ask you first, that is."

...

It took her five days to force her way into Starfleet Medical, but she did it.  
She stepped into his room, still wearing a crisp dark uniform, despite the fact that she was off duty and on leave.  
"I am sorry it took me so long."  
He reached out a hand, and she came to his side, carefully embracing him. Her kiss tasted of peppermint and the salt of tears he had not seen her cry.  
"I missed you." He stroked his fingers through her hair.  
"They would not let me see you." She sounded indignant.  
"Leonard told me. I'm sorry. It must have cost you a lot to get here."  
She pulled back a little. "I think we should get married," she said evenly.  
He smiled and took her hand. "I'd like that. We can, can't we? In this universe?"  
"We can," she confirmed.  
"Well, then. Forgive me for not getting on my knees, love. I'll make it up to you once I can. Will you marry me?"  
"Yes," she said simply. "In this universe, and in any other."

...

* * *

_"I will run to you  
When my journey is over  
Wait for me  
Keep our love alive  
I will dream of you  
'till I reach the sun  
Then I'll turn around  
and run to you."  
(The Rasmus, Run to You)_

* * *

...

After that, it was almost simple.  
Sofia took care of the necessary formalities and either charmed or forced the section head into allowing a wedding ceremony to take place in a hospital room. She refused to tell him the details, but Leonard, who came to visit soon after, seemed vastly amused.  
Two weeks after their return to Earth, Starfleet Medical witnessed the first wedding ceremony ever to take place within its walls. There were only eight people present; the bride and groom, an official from the civil registry office, the attending doctor and nurse, Leonard McCoy, Eva Mondego and Captain Francis Campbell, who jokingly insisted that this was Sofia's way of getting back at him for conspiring with her first officer.  
Chris eyed him warily at first.  
Campbell reached out a hand. "Francis Campbell. I don't believe we've met yet, at least not when you were awake."  
Chris took his hand automatically.  
"I'm friends with your fiancée," Campbell continued, "and please don't say something like _'What, she's got friends?' _now."  
"Very funny, Francis," Sofia growled, glowering at him.  
"You have friends?" Chris asked her playfully, raising a brow. Sofia lightly slapped him on the arm with the flowers somebody had pressed into her hands. "Yes, several."  
Eva laughed at them.  
"Are you sure you want to marry her?" Leonard asked, grinning. "You are no match for her; she'll have you under her thumb in no time."  
Chris reached for Sofia's hand. "I know," he said. "And she has, for a long time."  
"Well, then."  
The ceremony was simple, but despite the fact that it was born out of necessity rather than a romantic proposal and careful planning, it was actually quite nice.  
Eva had brought a cake and a pair of unadorned silver rings. "You can exchange them for something different later, they are only symbolic," she said.  
"I quite like them, actually," Sofia said, admiring hers on her finger. "Thank you." She hugged her sister.  
"Don't think you'll get out of the madness of wedding planning with this," Eva warned them both, smirking. "We'll have a party as soon as Chris is better."  
"Think we can hijack a space ship and escape, love?" Chris asked his bride.  
"It's a thought."  
They sat around his bed in a companionable circle, the doctor and nurse having left to see to their other patients and escort the official back outside.  
"I'm curious, though," Francis Campbell said, "why in the world haven't you done this sooner?"  
Chris and Sofia exchanged glances. "It always seemed impossible."

...

"The Academy?" she asked. "That is... very different from your last assignment. You are not thinking of getting out of active duty, are you?"  
There was something in her tone of voice that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.  
_Careful now.  
_"No," he said.  
"Oh." It sounded almost... disappointed?  
He sighed. "Number One..."  
She held up a hand. "No, don't say it. Not unless you mean it."  
"Well, I _was_ going to say that you're more than welcome to come and join me, but..."  
"And do what, exactly?" She asked sharply. "Play housewife? I have a job, and I am just as good at it as you are. I _like_ being a Starfleet captain and commanding a ship, Christopher. A lot. Would you ask me to give that up?"  
She was clearly in a belligerent mood and he wondered what had gotten her so worked up. Possibly something about her current mission, or maybe a conflict aboard her ship...?  
"Never," he replied sincerely, "and you know that."  
"Well, then."  
"... I was merely thinking that if this works out for me, and if I find that I like recruiting and teaching Starfleet's next generation, I might look into making that arrangement permanent. With everything that entails. Staying planet-side, buying a house, building a home. And okay, maybe I was even thinking of retiring from active duty. It would make things a lot easier for us."  
"How?" She demanded. "How will it make things easier if you are on Earth and I'm in deep space?"  
"Deep space?" He asked, frowning.  
"Yes. My next assignment. We got our orders two days ago."  
It hit him with the force and speed of a Klingon warbird and he felt his armor shatter, the heavy suit and mask he had learned to wear over the years to protect himself.  
_Deep space_. She would be gone for months, maybe years.  
"How long?" He asked quietly, dreading the answer.  
"Eighteen months." Her voice was firm, clipped, devoid of feeling.  
"But that's... one and a half years."  
"Yes," she confirmed, "it is."  
He did not know what to say, and apparently, neither did she. Silence reigned between them.  
Two days later, he received a short message.  
_If you buy that house, plant a cherry tree for me._

_..._

* * *

_"And we made a lot of sacrifice  
Undid a lot of ties  
Fought a lot of fights  
To get where we are now  
Just don´t ask me how."  
(Blue, Curtain Falls)_

* * *

...

There were three things to be said about his nerve regeneration treatments:  
They were excruciatingly painful, agonizingly slow and unbelievably boring. After three weeks at Starfleet Medical, he asked for a loaded phaser. It was a half-hearted attempt at gallows humor, but it brought in a psychologist, and two members of the staff, who removed all sharp objects from his room.  
"I wouldn't kill myself," he told Sofia, who sat by his bedside.  
"I know." She had exchanged the uniform for a green and beige dress and a matching shawl and she looked lovely.  
"I just want to get out of here. Now."  
She shook her head. "Four months, at best."  
He groaned. "Four months? Okay, maybe I do want to kill myself, after all." He nodded towards her PADD on the bedside table. "What's going on out there? There isn't much on the aftermath of the _Narada_ Incident on the news. Starfleet is keeping things under wraps, aren't they?"  
Of course they were. The general public was shaken enough by the fact that Vulcan was suddenly _gone_. They didn't need to know just how close Earth had come to suffering the same fate, and they didn't need to know that in the end, everybody's fate had rested like a crushing weight on the shoulders of a ship full of cadets commanded by two young men who had set out on this trip despising each other.  
"They are done with the debriefings and with the evaluation of the logs and accumulated data," Sofia told him. "The commission is scheduled to present its report in two days. After that, decisions will be made regarding the Enterprise crew. It is expected that most of the cadets will not go back to the Academy, and that the Board will waive their exams and declare them full members of Starfleet. It is pretty certain that Dr. McCoy, as well as cadets Sulu, Chekov and Uhura, will receive commendations for outstanding service. Mr. Scott will be reinstated to his former rank."  
Chris smiled at that. They more than deserved it, all four of them, and as for Scotty - well, it seemed that Admiral Archer was duly impressed and had forgiven him for the disappearance of his dog.  
"And Jim Kirk and Spock?" He had been worrying about those two. They were the most promising of his young protégées, but also the most difficult.  
Sofia sent him a knowing look. "The majority of the people I have spoken to believe that they will be granted a general pardon and be honored for their service to Starfleet, Vulcan and Earth. Their methods may have been unorthodox, but that is ultimately what saved us all." She put a hand on his arm. "I think your kids will be fine, love."  
"My kids?" he asked.  
"Admiral Archer called them that. It fits, somehow."  
Chris thought about that for a moment. Then he nodded slowly. "I suppose it does."  
"They have been asking about you. All of them," she said. "They kept Kirk isolated from the rest for the most part, but he seems to have a talent for hacking anything with an computer chip inside, so he's managed to get some message through." She raised her brows. "Could it be that you neglected to put that particular habit of his in any of your reports as his tutor?"  
"Well..."  
"Anyway, Spock is holed up at the Vulcan Embassy with the rest of his people, but he came to see me twice, and he was very gracious. You know Spock. He sends his regards, even though he obviously did not phrase it that way, and congratulations on our union. He also asked after Kirk and the others and seemed genuinely concerned. That was a bit out of character."  
"Having several near-death experiences and losing your planet will do that to you," Chris muttered. "I'm glad he's found some friends, if you can call them that. He's going to need them."  
She nodded gravely. "I feel so sorry for him, but there is nothing I can say or do to make it better."  
"I know the feeling, believe me." Chris said.  
"Now that the debriefings are over, you may actually get to see some of them. So far, Leonard has been the only one allowed to visit."  
Chris looked at the cards on his bedside table. "I know," he said softly. "I would like to see them. I haven't even had a chance to thank Jim for saving my life."  
"I have," she said. Her grip on his arm tightened and he knew why.  
_I promised to be more careful, and yet she came so close to losing me. Again. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to make good on that._  
"How is the house?" He asked, deliberately changing subjects.  
"I have re-decorated the living room and painted the kitchen pink. It looks lovely," she said with a perfectly straight face.  
He gulped. "That's - uh... nice?"  
She laughed. "No, of course not. But seeing your face just now was worth it."  
"You're evil, you know that?" But he smiled. "And your cherry tree?"  
"Great. We should have a lot of cherries this fall. You know, when I asked you to plant me a cherry tree, I did not think you would go all out and have a fifteen meter tall tree dug up and re-planted."  
"Well, you never specified the size of the tree, did you?" he teased.  
"I did not," she conceded. "And I probably should have known. You never do things by halves. Speaking of which... why is there are nursery on the second floor?" She looked at him expectantly.  
"Because it was there when I bought the house and I haven't gotten around re-furnishing that room," he replied honestly.  
She kept looking at him. "And...?"  
_Here comes the moment of truth..._  
"And I was hoping we might one day use it as such...?" It was a tentative question.  
Sofia remained quiet for a long moment, and he could not tell what went on inside her head. They had broached the subject a couple of times, but never discussed it, and now...  
"I would like that," she said quietly.  
He took her hand, running his fingers along the inside of her palm. "Really?"  
"Yes. I think we are finally ready to settle down, both of us. And I know we will be good parents."  
There was no _would_ in her sentence.  
_She's thought about this, and she's certain_, he realized. But at the same time, the reality of his situation forced him to caution her.  
"It might be a while, though," he said, looking down at his legs almost involuntary.  
Sofia squeezed his hand. "We are used to waiting, are we not?"

...

"Captain!" If Pavel Chekov had been two or three years younger, he would probably have squealed in delight. As it was, he had already passed his change of voice and it came out more like a yelp. Behind him, Leonard chuckled, ushering the rest of them into the room.  
"I hope you're up for this, because we are bending regulations almost to a breaking point to get everybody in here at once," he said. "All of the bridge crew, that is. I've told engineering, astrometrics, medical, tactical and everybody else that they'd all get their turns."  
"Good heavens," Chris said, just before he found himself subjected to a hug by Nyota Uhura.  
"I'm pretty sure that was against protocol, lieutenant," he told her, grinning up at her. "Congratulations, by the way. The new uniform looks good on you."  
She blushed and smiled with barely concealed pride.  
"I'm serious," Chris said, "and you more than earned it. If you hadn't deciphered that Klingon transmission..."  
"I didn't think much of it, at first," she said modestly, "not until Jim started ranting about a lightning storm in space and the _Kelvin_."  
"There's a story to that, by the way," Leonard said, grinning. "Jim first heard about the transmission while he was hiding in her room under the bed."  
"Jim...?" Chris asked, raising his brows. "Why on Earth would you be hiding under her bed?"  
"I wasn't hiding under her bed, I was hiding under Gaila's bed," Jim clarified. "Just for the record. And I did so, because she told me to. Apparently, Nyota asked her not to bring anyone to their room."  
"Yes, because if you have an Orion roommate, you've got to set up a few parameters," Uhura stated. "Otherwise it's Sodom and Gomorrah."  
"Sounds fun," Jim commented.  
"May I please slap him, Captain?" Uhura asked Chris.  
"Go ahead. But not too hard, we might need him the next time Earth has to be saved from malignant time travelling Romulans."  
"God, I hope not," Leonard said.  
"Spock, it's nice to see you," Chris said, waving the young Vulcan over to his bedside.  
"Likewise, Captain. I am glad to see that you seem to be recovering well."  
"So you've decided to stay in Starfleet." Chris waved at his uniform.  
"For the time being, yes." Spock confirmed.  
"Good. I am happy to hear that. Somebody needs to keep an eye on Kirk and make sure he doesn't blow anything else up. And right now, I don't feel up to the challenge."  
"I _didn't_ blow up the ship," Jim protested, sounding slightly exasperated. "Why does everybody keep saying that. I just..."  
"... managed to get smuggled aboard, initiated a fight with the commanding officer on the bridge, staged a mutiny, defied a direct order and ejected the warp core...?"  
"Well..." Jim squirmed visibly. "Wait, how do you know all that...?"  
"The commission's report is available to anyone with a high enough clearance level. It was quite entertaining to read."  
"I bet," Leonard said, grinning. "Especially the part where Scotty managed to beam himself straight into a water conduit and almost drowned."  
"Hey!" the engineer protested. "That was a one-time thing!"  
"To quote Admiral Archer," Sulu said, "_'It's a miracle they all survived, given the amounts of things that could have gone wrong, nearly went wrong and did go wrong. If nothing else, we ought to give them a medal for being damn hard to kill.'_"  
"He said that?" Chris chuckled. He looked around at the circle of young people surrounding him. "So what now? Nobody got their head torn off by Barnett and friends; what are you up to now?"  
They told him.  
Told him about the special program the Academy had set up for some of them to enable them to catch up on some of the more important classes they had missed by graduating early and against their will. About the specialized classes custom-tailored to their skill set - advanced piloting and tactical classes for Sulu, special long-distance tutoring by some the best translators and linguists in the Federation for Uhura, further command training for Kirk. Nobody had to teach Chekov anything about astrophysics, but he had plenty of things to learn about living aboard a starship, fitting into a command structure and getting along with people three times his age. After all, he was just seventeen.  
Christine Chapel would start medical school and become a doctor, at the insistence and on recommendation of Leonard.  
Spock told him about the efforts of the remaining members of the Vulcan government in trying to assemble all surviving members of their race and finding a suitable colony. The Federation had been generous in providing ships, manpower and resources, but a tremendous effort was still needed to rescue what was left of Vulcan's population and culture.  
Montgomery Scott was busy working with a team of specialists on fine-tuning his trans-warp technique.  
"So he doesn't end up in a water conduit again," Jim teased.  
He also checked in on the _Enterprise_ every now and then. Apparently, the repairs were coming along at a satisfactory pace.  
There was to be a memorial service for the crews of six other ships and those members of the _Enterprise_ crew who had lost their lives. A memorial plaque bearing their names was to be unveiled, since there were no bodies to be buried.  
New appointments had been made, and the primary fleet was on its way back from the Laurentian System.  
The Academy Board was worried, because recruitment numbers had dropped by almost sixty percent.  
"I guess we aren't the galaxy's most popular employer right now, are we?" Chris asked ironically.  
"I'm sure the numbers will go up again once people have calmed down at bit," Jim said. "After all, we're Starfleet. There's no one cooler than us."  
Chris smiled at his youthful optimism. They could all use a dose of that now.  
Life continued, because it had to.

...

* * *

_"We have all the time in the world  
Time enough for life  
To unfold  
All the precious things  
Love has in store"  
(Louis Armstrong, We have all the time in the world)_

* * *

...

"Happy birthday," Leonard said, thrusting a gaudily wrapped parcel into Chris' arms.  
"Ah, I think you may have confused me with someone else," Chris protested. "My birthday is in April."  
"I know," Leonard said. "But today is the first day of the rest of your life. You're getting out of rehab."  
It was the best news he had had since - well, Monday actually, but he would tell Leonard about that later. "Really? No one told me."  
"I know. I asked to be the one to deliver the good news. Doctor Gamal thinks you're ready to go home, provided that you attend all your physical therapy appointments, don't overexert yourself and leave the heavy lifting to your wife for the time being."  
"That might not be such a good idea," Chris said, unable to hide a smile.  
"Oh? Come on, don't go all macho on me, she's probably tougher than you are. I actually watched her toss Jim around on the mat a few times. His expression was priceless."  
"Yeah, well, he'll have to find another sparring partner. Maybe Spock will oblige?"  
"I think Jim's a bit cautious around him, after almost being choked to death," Leonard pointed out. "But what's with Sofia?" He looked at Chris, and Chris saw understanding slowly dawn on his face. "She isn't pregnant, is she?"  
"She is," Chris confirmed.  
"Wow. Congratulations." Leonard smiled, but then he frowned. "Wait. How exactly...?"  
"Leonard," Chris said raising his brows, "are you sure you want to finish that sentence?"  
Leonard looked slightly flustered. "Uh... no. Point taken. There are things I don't need to know."  
"Smart man. So, no heavy lifting or sparring for Sofia in the next few months. But we'll manage, somehow."  
"I'm sure. Boy or girl?"  
"Both, actually."

...

You had to hand it to Admiral Barnett, he knew how deliver inspiring speeches and make everybody listening feel a solemn pride at being a member of Starfleet. It was probably why they had elected him as Academy President in the first place. That, and his fondness for rules and regulations.  
"This assembly calls Captain James Tiberius Kirk..."  
"I wonder what Winona and George were thinking when they named him," Archer muttered, shaking his head.  
"They were stuck in an impossible situation at the time. He was about to die and she was about to give birth _and_ lose her husband. I think the lapse is excusable," Chris replied, before turning back to watch Barnett and the _Enterprise_ crew.  
"Your inspirational valor and supreme dedication to your comrades are in keeping with the highest traditions of service and reflect utmost credit to yourself, your crew, and the Federation. For your... unique solution to the _Kobayashi Maru_, it's my honor to award you with a commendation for original thinking," Barnett continued, and Chris caught his slight, almost involuntary flinch. Somewhere beneath his impassive mask, Spock was probably flinching, too. Or maybe he was laughing at the irony of it.  
Barnett presented the medal to Jim and to the audience.  
"By Starfleet Order 28455, you are hereby directed to report to Commanding Officer, USS Enterprise, for duty as his relief."  
"That's your cue," Archer said and moved away.  
Chris watched Jim walk towards him. He was in the wheelchair again, because standing for an extended period of time exhausted him, and because his physical therapist had threatened horrible punishments if he did not follow her orders. At least he got to wear his fancy new dress uniform. It was hard to look dignified in a wheelchair, but the uniform helped.  
As did seeing Jim now.  
_It was worth it._  
Somewhere in the crowd, Sofia was watching, her beautiful face glowing.  
"I relieve you, Sir," Jim said solemnly.  
"I am relieved," Chris was unable to keep the amusement from his voice. "Congratulations, Captain." He pinned the medal to Jim's chest.  
_I'm proud of you, Jim._  
"Thank you, Sir."  
As Jim returned to join his crew for further congratulations and celebrations, Chris sought out Sofia in the crowd. She waved and stood up. They met at the edge of the assembled crowd.  
"You looked good up there," she said, after bending down to kiss him.  
"So do you." It was true. She was in uniform, too, a captain's uniform. She had retained her rank despite retiring from active duty; probably because Command was still hoping to convince her to come back in a few months or years. In the meantime, they had offered her an administrative posting which she had gladly accepted, since it was very useful in pursuing her new pet project - altering regulations to permit relationships between Starfleet personnel. At first, Chris had thought she was joking, but she wasn't.  
"The world did not come to a sudden end when we got married, did it?" she had asked. "Now I just need to get Barnett and the other traditionalists to acknowledge that."  
"Ask him to be godfather to our son," Chris had suggested jokingly.  
"I would not go that far. Besides, Francis would be rather disappointed. And I am not overly fond of _Richard_ as a first name."  
The pregnancy was visible now, and it made her even more beautiful. And it had done nothing to diminish her energy.  
"You promised me a dance," she reminded him.  
"That I did," he confirmed, smiling. "I hope you appreciate the fact that I'm risking Dr. Xu's wrath with this."  
"She is not as bad as you paint her," Sofia said.  
"Well, _you_ don't have to spend five morning a week with her," Chris pointed out. "But you're right. She has a heart, too. Somewhere. Probably locked away in an iron chest with no key."  
Sofia laughed. "What's her first name?"  
"Oh no. No. Absolutely not." Chris shook his head emphatically. "You are not making her our daughter's godmother. Choose someone - anyone else."  
"I was just teasing you." She held out her hand. "Come on."  
Chris took her hand and they joined everyone else celebrating.

...


	5. Epilogue

...

It was a familiar noise, but more than unwelcome this early in the morning. Groggily he sat up and shook his head to clear the sleepy fog from his mind. It was a bad idea; it made him feel dizzy.  
_I've had too much drink last night. Whoever said Starfleet doesn't know how to party obviously never attended one of ours...  
_Sighing Admiral Richard Barnett reached for the shirt he found on the floor next to the bed, only to realize that it was a couple of sizes too small and obviously not his.  
_Oh._ This morning kept getting more interesting by the minute. _Apparently, I brought someone home last night. When was the last time that happened?  
_The incessant beeping noise grew louder, and somebody stepped into the room. He was barefoot and missing a shirt.  
"I think this is yours."  
He handed the small, silver device to Barnett, who took it with a soft sigh.  
"Admiral!" His personal aide's voice sounded relieved. "Finally. Are you well, sir?"  
"Somewhat sleepy, but otherwise perfectly fine, Lucas. What is it?"  
"I am calling to inform you that the board meeting has been rescheduled to accommodate Commodore Flint, who is departing to New Vulcan tomorrow. It will take place at noon today."  
"And I better be there, right?" Barnett asked sarcastically. "What time is it?"  
"Sir?" His aide seemed rather taken aback by the question.  
"The time, Lucas. What time is it now?"  
"It's half past nine, sir."  
"Thank you, Lucas. Barnett out."  
He looked up and turned to face the proverbial elephant in the room.  
_Let's get this over with.  
_The otherguy beat him to it. "Captain Francis Campbell, in case you were wondering. I don't think our introductions went beyond first names last night."  
"Captain?" Barnett wondered aloud. _Please let him be a member of the Coast Guard. Or something like that.  
_"_USS Boreas_," his visitor confirmed with a smile.  
Barnett's eyes narrowed. "You definitely didn't mention that last night."  
The smile broadened into a roguish grin. It looked good on him. Really good. "Well, your no-nonsense policy regarding Starfleet regulations and protocol is well known. I might have deliberately neglected to alert you to the fact that I was off limits. I apologize for that. But I'll have you know that I'm not sorry."  
Barnett studied him. He was a small man, slender and wiry, possibly in his early forties but it was hard to tell. He had a shock of full black hair streaked with gray and vivid green eyes surrounded by laughter lines. And that smile was infectious.  
_I guess I'm not all that sorry, either.  
_"I suppose I should have recognized you. We met before."  
Francis Campbell nodded. "Mission briefing, aboard the _Enterprise_. I brought Admiral Archer to join you there. We had been en route back to Earth when the incident happened. You had other things on your mind back then, though."  
"Indeed." Barnett looked around the room. "I seem to have lost my clothes somewhere. I found your shirt, though."  
He threw it to Campbell.  
"Thanks. Yours are in the living room."  
Barnett raised his brows. "Do I want to know why?"  
Campbell laughed. "Blackout?"  
"It's coming back to me in embarrassing bits and pieces. I haven't felt this foolish since my Academy days."  
"It was a great party."  
"Seems like it." Barnett stepped across the room to the wardrobe and took out a fresh set of undergarments and what he liked to call his everyday uniform. He dressed with quiet efficiency, Campbell watching him from across the room.  
"So," Barnett said, closing the wardrobe and turning around, "the Academy grapevine, which is the most efficient ways of spreading classified information ever invented by men, will undoubtedly have carried this story around by now. And I'm to face a board meeting at noon, with my peers snickering behind their hands and calling me a hypocrite. Fun will abound, no doubt."  
"Breakfast first, before you hang yourself from the rafters of the great auditorium?" Campbell suggested wryly.  
"The auditorium doesn't have any rafters, but it's a thought." Barnett eyed him warily. "Wait - weren't you the guy who lied to me about Sofia Mondego's relationship with Pike?"  
Campbell shrugged. "I was one of several people who did that, I suppose," he said evenly. "Besides, for all I knew, what I told you then could have been true. I knew that she was in love with Pike, it was hard to miss. But how was I to know that she'd been sleeping with him for nine years? I mean, it's not as if we talked about that..."  
Barnett shook his head. "What on Earth was I thinking...?" he muttered to himself. He had managed to surprise himself, and he was fairly certain that didn't happen to many people. Unfortunately, it was not the kind of surprise he would have liked.  
Campbell stepped to his side and put a hand on his shoulder. "Truthfully? Not much, I'd wager. I don't believe anyone who left that party past eleven o'clock left it sober. If it's any comfort to you, there was a brawl, Captain Fuentes passed out at her table, a lieutenant had to be summarily removed from the premises after making undue overtures to the Andorian ambassador - who, by the way, seemed rather amused by it - Professor Messner tried to get everybody to sing with him and Admiral Archer left with a woman young enough to be his daughter or even granddaughter."  
Barnett was unsure whether to laugh or to cry. _Starfleet: because regular frat parties would just be plain boring. And here I thought things would quiet down a bit with Kirk gone on a mission._  
"Misery loves company, huh?" Barnett sighed. "I'll have to find the person responsible for distributing that Andorian ale last night."  
"Look to the ambassador himself and no further."  
"Damn. He has diplomatic immunity." Barnett cursed under his breath. "If not..."  
"... you would have tied his antennae in a knot?" Campbell suggested, green eyes twinkling.  
"Something like that. Now, somebody mentioned breakfast?" He raised his brows.  
Campbell grinned.  
_He's not even my usual type,_ Barnett thought. Nevertheless, that grin did interesting things to his stomach. _That, or I'm just hungry... yeah, right.  
_He watched Campbell eat his French Toast with gusto and thought: _It could have been worse. I could have ended up with Professor Messner, or - God forbid - one of my cadets.  
_"What will you tell the Board, if they ask you?" Campbell asked.  
Barnett shrugged. "That I seem to have had a bit too much Andorian ale on insistence of the ambassador and consequently suffered a most embarrassing blackout. Which is why I remember nothing at all. End of story."  
"Ah," Campbell said with a knowing glint in his eyes, "but you _do_ remember, don't you?"  
Barnett inclined his head. "Most of it, yes. But that is between you and I." He fixed the other man with a piercing gaze. "Are we clear on that?"  
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Campbell replied. "And just so you know, the command tone is wasted. I'm not going to call you 'sir' until there is at least one other person in the room."  
Usually, Barnett didn't take to insubordination and willfulness well. In Francis Campbell, it intrigued him.  
_Bad sign, Richard. Bad, bad sign.  
_He took another sip of coffee, trying to hide his feelings.  
"Oh." Campbell looked up, after checking something on his PADD. "This will lift your spirits: as of today, neither of us violated any regulations or is likely to face disciplinary action. That is, if we didn't leave the party or get naked before midnight."  
"I can safely say that we didn't. How so?" Barnett asked, but then it dawned upon him. "Don't tell me - Archer and Mondego succeeded in their campaign to make Starfleet more _'family friendly'_?"  
"I don't believe that's the term Sofia used, but yes. As of today, sexual or any other kind of relations between members of Starfleet are no longer prohibited, as long as they are consensual and not detrimental to the reputation and good standing of Starfleet. However, if two or more individuals serving aboard the same ship or station or at the same facility enter into a relationship, they have to inform their superior officer and Starfleet reserves the right to reassign one or all of them if there is cause to believe that their relationship could compromise the mission or the project they are working on."  
Barnett took a deep breath. "Did I just hear you say _'two or more individuals'_?"  
"Yes," Campbell confirmed with barely concealed glee.  
"You know, I'm not even going to ask about that. There are things I really don't need to know anything about and I..."  
Campbell came around the table and stood next to him, looking down.  
"Richard?"  
"Yes?"  
"Shut up and enjoy."  
For the second time that day, Barnett surprised himself. He did as he was told. With no regrets.  
Later, on their way to their respective duties, he watched Campbell type something on his PADD.  
"Status report on your ship?" He guessed.  
Campbell shook his head and looked up, green eyes sparkling with good humor. "I'm sending Sofia some flowers. Would you like me to add your name to the card?" he asked innocently.

...

"I hear we missed all the fun last night," Sofia said, joining him on the sofa after setting down a tray with drinks and bowls of nuts and olives on the low table in front of her. "I am almost sorry we left early."  
"The joys of parenthood. Cheers." Francis raised his glass to her. She smiled and did the same. "Speaking of which, how are the kids?"  
"Good. Growing, learning, driving Chris and me nuts. They are crawling, and fast, and they are learning to pull themselves up to a stand. Aemilia found out that pushing things from the lower shelves and off tables is a really fast way to get everybody's attention. Her brother obviously had to imitate her. We have spent the last few days evacuating anything breakable to heights they cannot reach yet."  
Francis laughed. "If you need some rest and want me to babysit, give me a call. Seems like I'm going to be stuck in San Francisco for a little while longer. They can't seem to find me a new first officer, can you imagine? I'm not that hard to get along with, am I?"  
"No. But there is a significant lack of qualified candidates." She sighed softly. "Starfleet took heavy losses. It will take time to repair all that."  
He nodded grimly. "Yeah, you're right." But then his face brightened again. "On a more cheerful note - congratulations on and thank you for making Starfleet a less puritanical and generally more welcoming organization."  
She smiled. "I got your flowers, Francis."  
The corners of his mouth twitched. He tried to fight it, but was unable to contain his grin.  
She raised her elegantly curving brows. "Okay, what exactly is so funny about that?"  
"You will _never_ guess who I was with when I sent you those flowers."  
"You were with somebody?" She leaned in closer. "Oh, should I be jealous?"  
"No. You have a husband and two kids upstairs, so definitely not. But..."  
"Do tell." Chris said from the doorway, before he moved into the room to join them.  
"Barnett." Francis said, still grinning. "Hi Chris."  
Sofia looked confused. "Barnett who...? I have a hard time keeping track of all of your friends and acquaintances, Francis. You are a real people person."  
"Admiral Richard Barnett. Who, contrary to public opinion, looks great when he's not wearing a uniform."  
"You are joking," Sofia said, eyes wide, before turning towards her husband. "He is joking, right?"  
Chris regarded Francis steadily. "I'm not sure he is. But I thought you had a thing for my wife, Francis. How does that match...?"  
"Well, since she's currently unavailable, I have to look elsewhere, right?"  
"Currently?" Chris asked, putting a hand on Sofia's shoulder. "I think not."  
"Oh, hush," Sofia said. She fixed Francis with a firm gaze. "Tell me you did not."  
"Sorry." He smiled. "But it was just too good an opportunity to pass. I think I even got him to appreciate your new legislation. A little bit, at least. He declined to sign the card, though."  
Sofia shook her head. "You know what, Francis? You are crazy."  
"Barnett?" Chris asked. "Really?"  
"Yep. Oh come on, don't look so shocked; he's quite handsome. And he actually has a bit of personality hidden beneath that uniform. Among other things."  
Their faces displayed and interesting mix of emotions, Francis thought. He had definitely managed to surprise them.  
"I don't know whether to laugh or... no, this is too weird to even be funny," Chris said.  
"I think the _'two or more individuals' _part really shook him up, Sofia." Francis said. "It was hilarious."  
"He is not going to take kindly to this," she predicted darkly.  
"Absolutely not," Chris agreed. "The man knows how to hold a grudge."  
"Well, he's having dinner with me tonight," Francis replied nonchalantly and laughed at their startled expressions.

...


End file.
